Tarzan and Jane
by B. Cavis.

Tarzan and Jane
by B. Cavis

The ties on her wrists are silk and the man at her back is iron. She can feel his breath coming hot and gentle against her skin, and it binds her to reality with a soft grip.

God she never should have agreed to this-- he's way too sexy for her own good, and just a little bit too dangerous for it to be a smart decision to give up use of her hands and will power. There is no way he could knowingly hurt her, but he could scare the ever-loving shit out of her pretty easily. And what's worse, he could make her like it.

This is one of the negative sides of doing something like this with a man you have a relationship with. If she moves her hips to one side or another, he knows exactly what she's feeling and exactly what she needs. And since he knows what he needs to do, he can refuse to do it for as long as he is physically able to.

He knows her well enough to know when a disgruntled groan can be turned into a plea for God and mercy and his personal favorite noise of "oh God, Bobby, just fuck me, fuck me, puh please!"

He loves getting her to say that. When she asked him what his favorite part about their sexual relationship was (they were half drunk on champagne, lying in his bed while feeding each other bits of chocolate croissant and glowing with after sex light) he replied that is was the way she was so absolutely desperate for it after just a few touches in the right place. When she had responded that she was not " desperate" for anything, he had turned her onto her stomach and... demonstrated.

For an hour.

Alex shivers in her current position on the bed, rubbing her face against her arms and grunting under her breath. That was a good memory. One of her personal favorites.

Maybe this can replace it, though.

Of course, up until now, no matter how plays the in command one, there are certain parts of it that are always just going to be that-- play. He has never made her do something she wasn't 100% willing to do on her own, he's just... rushed her a bit. His hands have never pushed her into a position she wasn't going to get in anyway, he just edged her into it a little bit early.

She is safe with him; comfortable in her own skin when she's around him.

He has her tied to a bed. Naked. But he is still her partner.

Come to think of it, Alex isn't sure whether she should feel relieved by that or not. After all, her partner is capable of some... pretty interesting things. He can tie a knot in a cherry stem. He can speak three languages and various bits and pieces of others. He can make her ooze all over his hands with a touch in the right place, a breath in the right spot, a nip of his teeth at the right time.

Bobby can make her tear apart using only the tips of his fingers and a well places blow on her skin. He knows her, knows her reactions, knows her body inside and out many times over. He can make her beg, and he knows it, and that thought scares her.

He's her partner, so he knows her limitations. He's her partner, so he knows how to get around them.

She knew he needed it from the moment they walked in the door tonight. The pressure he put on the small of her back when he steered he through doors was more insistent, more needy than usual, and when he pulled her down on the couch after him and grabbed her by the hair to yank her head back and bare her throat, she knew he wanted to control some part of his life. Days of sitting in front of a committee keeping track of the progress of the Major Case squad on crime have taken a toll on the both of them.

Being told when to sit, when to speak, when to leave and when to show up have shaken them both. Alex doesn't mind-- bureaucracy is just another part of being a cop, and as a police man's daughter, grand daughter, and niece she understands that and plays the game easily.

Bobby doesn't get it. Bobby hates it. The military taught him discipline, true, but it didn't teach him to sit in a room and be useless for as long as a group of politicians tells him to be. When the were finally dismissed after two days of being interviewed and prodded for answers about cases that were years old, they came back to her apartment.

And he grabbed her and pulled her against him and wouldn't let go. So she placed her hand on his chest and pulled his tie out of his collar, and wrapped it playfully around her wrists.

He had gotten the message. Loud and pretty clear, and after a few more minutes of being bent around his lap and held in place by his will power and hands alone, she let him lead her into the bedroom.

The chair that she had inherited from her father was suddenly owned by him, as he had sat down in it and interlocked his fingers, and looked at her.

Simply looked.

Her thighs were wet and sticky, and she knew he could smell her from his seat in that chair, a mere foot in front of her, but he made no move to touch her, and she hadn't moved to go to him.

He can make me wet just by looking at me, she had thought to herself. There is no way I am ever letting him go.

"Take off your shirt," he said, and she felt her fingers grab hold of the bottom of the soft silk and pull before she even knew what she was doing.

It started the pile on the floor, and she stood back in her heels, slacks, and bra. His chest had expanded quickly, and she had smiled to herself. He can make her wet with a look, but she can make him hard with a shift of her body.

"The bra next," he whispered hoarsely. She dragged her hands up her ribs and let her head drip backwards to play up to his fantasy. Her fingers snapped the back of her bra easily, and his gulp was audible throughout the room. She smiled to herself as it slipped off her body and fell to the floor. His breath was harsh and rough in the relative silence of the room.

"Pants." She unbuttoned the fastener, and watched his eyes follow the slow slide of the cloth to the ground. She heard his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her, and felt a small burst of pride in her own sexuality. She stood before him in a pair of high heeled sandals (because the added three inches they gave her height always made her feel better about being pulled into the " principal's office" as it were) and all the skin he could feast his eyes upon.

This morning, when she had been getting dressed for the day, it had been so hot and humid that her panties had stuck to her. She had sprinkled herself with baby powder to try and appease the crotch Gods, but had only succeeded in putting the discomfort off. By the time the committee had taken their first fifteen minute bathroom break, she had dove for the comfort of the bathroom and taken them off. They were currently sitting in her purse.

But he didn't need to know that, she had thought to herself, and smiled slightly at the look on his face.

"No underwear. I like you without underwear," he choked out, and she had spread her legs out gently. His face had turned an attractive shade of red.

"On the bed," he grunted out, and she had turned cheerfully to climb up onto the thin blanket and sit back on her haunches with her knees bent and spread open. His mouth had been held open by a force beyond his control, and she had sighed as her hair tickled her body.

"On your knees," he had continued, and she had turned to face to headboard, ass in the air, and hands folded underneath her head. Her entire body had felt deliciously buzzed and more than a little bit... exposed. She was entirely open to his eyes and his mouth and his view, and she knew that was exactly the way he liked her to be. Open.


Slowly, so slowly she didn't even hear him do it, he rose from his chair and walked over to the bed. Her back was painted white and soft in the light from the street, and he dragged one finger down her spine to feel it. She shivered, gently but definitely, and he smiled to himself as he look the horribly plain tie he had been wearing today and grabbed both of her hands in his.

A quick thread of the fabric through the metal work of the headboard, and soft tug on her arms, and Alex was secured and tethered to her own bed, while he stood behind her.


Which leads her here, kneeling on his bed with her heels still on, her ass in the air, and her entire body trying to figure out how best to entice him to get inside her as quickly as possible.

His pants and boxers join the pile of clothing she began, and she glances over to see that during her reflection, he removed his shirt, shoes, and socks.

She doesn't see his belt there, and that worries her for a second before she remembers that this is her partner and he would cut off his limbs and then sew them back on with a rusty needle before he would ever hurt her.

This is Bobby, she repeats to herself over and over again. *This is your lover, and you have nothing to worry about because you're the one who started this and he is following the messages your body sends him. He is harmless unless you want him to do harm.*


The image of what Bobby could do with her and a belt is incredibly appealing, all of a sudden. She wonders if this is the rebirth of her little kinky streak, or a discovery of a totally new one that has lain dormant for years, and shivers at the thought of what he could do to her if he knew.

Bobby likes exploring, after all. And she has the feeling in the pit of her stomach that he might just make her his new pet project if he found out about all of the secret little fetishes her husband used to play at with her.

There are a lot more interesting things to be done with food besides eat it, and there are a lot more ways to enjoy silk scarves and leather belts than most would think.

A open mouthed kiss is pressed against the small of her back, and she pushes up against it, desperate for some contact. He grins against her. Wide.

"Darling," he purrs, "I've only just touched you, and already you're arching for me?" A lick soothes the fire he started, and she makes a wordless sound against the sheets. "You are *desperate* for it, aren't you?"

She says nothing. Her throat is still trying to grasp the concept that she can form words and feel pleasure at the same time. Not working all that well, actually.

An open handed slap comes on her bottom, and she squeals loudly at the sensation. God he's never done *that* before-- what the hell brought that on? This is about five times darker and deeper that they have ever gone before-- usually it consists of them simply being... rough. Pulling and pushing and holding. There's never been this undertone of... dominance to it.

Alex might just be liking this more than is strictly good for her.

"Answer me," he orders, and she lets herself be carried away by the demanding tone and the thick need in his voice.

"Yes," she pants, and his hand slips down her ass crack to dive into where she wants it the most. She feels his thumb deliberately skim across her clit before diving into her and dragging out the flow of thick wetness into the air and dragging it up over her back. She squirms uncomfortably.

"You love this," he says in half fascination, half approval, and she pushes back against him for more contact. "I could do just about anything to you right now, and that idea is really getting you off, isn't it?" He grabs one of her ass cheeks in each hand, and now she is really just way too ready to get this going, because she's panting and gasping against her arm at the sensation of just having his body *near* her. She can feel his cock resting between her ass, and clenches back on him to make him half gasp, half laugh.

He is loving this dominance thing. To have a warm, wet, willing woman underneath him, squirming around and silently begging him for it while she tries hard not to lose her composure or her dignity is just too perfect for his male brain not to love it.

The enlightened, renaissance part of him knows that this is three steps away from "Me Tarzan, You Jane." He knows that to treat a woman like an object is foolish and stupid and small minded, and he would never think to do it outside of this bedroom.

It's just... well... he sort of gets the feeling that Alex is inviting him to, and that is just too damn nice of an invitation to give up. To take control from someone who doesn't want to give it is one thing. But to be able to make your lover wail from the application of a forceful hand at just the right moment is quite another, and he is never opposed to making Alex scream.

Truth be told, he still can't believe she's here with him and not off with some doctor or stock broker or lawyer. His partner is a beautiful woman, one that men look at. And as much as he dislikes the idea, he knows that she might be much better off in the suburbs somewhere, treated like a queen by a man who can afford to buy her diamonds and gold and platinum every time he feels the sudden urge. If she wanted to go out and find a man who would cherish and love and be able to keep her off her feet eating hot house strawberries in the dead of winter, she could.

And instead she's with him. Screwed up, royally mental him. He twitches and he smells dead bodies. His idea of romance is taking her out to her favorite Indian restaurant and talking about a case. He will never be able to drench her in jewels and he will never have enough mental stability to hold her and tell her that he will never get angry and never be upset and never be beyond her reach or comfort.

All Bobby has is his overwhelming dedication and desire and love for this woman.

And this. He trails his fingers down her spine, and she starts thrashing her hips as he gets closer and closer to her ass and her cunt and all of the places that put her at the willing mercy of his cock. Bobby can offer her sex that will make all of her brain cells burst and leak out her ears. He can bring her to points in her own body that she has never reached before and that he has never touched before with any woman.

His body and Alex's work well together. Perfectly. And he intends on making sure that every chance he gets, he leaves his mark on her skin's memory.

He intends on giving her this, because she wants it, and he intends on taking this because he is desperately seduced by it.

"Your ass is so pretty like this," he murmurs to her, and she is just whimpering now. "I love your ass, have I ever told you that?"

She doesn't say anything, and he brings his hand down on her once more. This time, she moves to follow it as it retreats off her skin. "That wasn't a rhetorical question, Alexandra." He can hear her panting as her hands pull at the tie reflexively. She could get loose if she needed to-- he made sure of it.

She's putting on a show, he realizes, and the thought makes him laugh. "Answer me."

"No," she whimpers, "you've never told me you love my ass."

"What a gross over sight on my part," he remarks. "Because Alexandra, I really, truly do." He presses a kiss on top of her tailbone. One hand pours down her ass and plays around her cunt for a moment. Her hair is tangles with sweat on the back of her neck. "I love your ass. But I love this even more." Two fingers slip inside of her body, careful not to make contact with any other part of her, and she full out hollers.

He thinks he may have just won the best prize of his lifetime.

She's crying and trying to push back against him, and he keeps one hand on her back to keep her still. When she finally realizes the pointlessness of it, she lets out a shaky gasp and bites down on the sheets next to her face. This is too much. This is not enough.

"You're always so hot for me," he whispers to her, and the sound is lewd and dark on her ears and skin. "I can always depend on you to bend over and take me all the way into that tight little body of yours, can't I? Because you are *desperate* for it." And there's that word again, that horrible, beautiful word, and now she's just nodding and panting into the cotton that coats her bed. He nods in satisfaction.

"Good," he says, "because that's exactly how I want you. I want you open like this all of the time. I want to know that I can have you just like this whenever I want you and that you'll be ready for it." His mouth comes on her back, hot and strong as his fingers move in and out of her, and body is killing itself trying to keep up with the sensations that he is raining down upon her.

His fingers feel invasive in her-- cool and detached, and even as they make her skin melt off her bones and her body strain for release, he remains beyond it all. His hand doesn't shake and his thumb doesn't snap down on her clit. She is trapped between his pointed and middle finger, and she has no way of getting free because he won't let her go and she's not quite sure she has the strength or will or desire to try and stop him.

"You're going to come for me," he grunts against her skin. "You're going to come hard and whenever I tell you to, because your only job right now is to listen to the sound of my voice and follow this pretty little clit of yours wherever it wants to lead you." Damn he is *really* into this, he thinks, and maybe this has stopped being a game for just a little bit too long but he can't stop now. Not when Alex is muffling her voice in the sheets because if she doesn't she'll scream and alert the neighbors. Not when he has her dripping down his fingers onto the bed as his cock bobs thick and needy up against his stomach.

Not when he is this close to blowing her mind and making himself the only one she'll ever need or ever remember-- he can't stop and he's not going to.

Her hands tighten around the ties, and he reaches up with one hand to make them more secure. Let's see just how much she wants to play, he thinks to himself, and keeps working his fingers clinically in and out of her.

"You'll take it any way you can get it, won't you?" He works his fingers faster and she is sobbing into the sheets now and shaking all over. "I could bend you over the kitchen table and fuck you before we make diner, and you would just scream for more." He leans down again to seize her shoulder in his teeth and purr up at her ear. "I could fuck you right before we went to work in the morning, and you would stand there talking to Deakins about a case while your little cunt tried to recover from what I had done to it. I could make you scream as you come, and then stand in front of Carver an hour later with that sound in my ears and yours." And he bites down on her earlobe just as he savagely thrusts a third finger into her. "And. You'd. Fucking. Love. It."

And Alex screams into the sheets and her mattress and her arms as her world contracts before exploding again, and the Big Bang replays itself in her bedroom while all the electricity in the universe centers on her clit and sends her body into convulsions.

Bobby's already inside of her as she comes down, and she feels him fucking her she's his last chance at getting something right. There's a low humming in her ears and it must be coming from her because all Bobby can do is make a soft little hissing noise through his teeth as he moves in and out of her body and lets the pounding of his own heartbeat in his head take him over and destroy his conscious thought.

She pushes back against him weakly, and he grunts in approval as he moves faster and faster behind her. The feeling is delicious, even if she can't come again after that, and he's not making her feel bad about it by playing with her clit or stroking her in an attempt to make something that can't occur happen. His arms are on either side of her, and she grips the ties with her fists while he moves her exhausted body around to suit the need that has hijacked his body and mind.

Her skin is vibrating softly with satisfaction, and she doesn't think she could move another muscle if he begged her too.


"Alex," he grunts against her, "Alex, Alex," I love you, she fills in, and smiles to herself peacefully because she understands everything that comes out of his mouth.

"Bobby," she whispers back, and that sound is filled with all of her happiness and all of her pleasure and all of her satisfaction, and it sends him spinning over the edge and pounding her body and wailing at the ceiling.

He falls, and she catches him against her back.

Some moments later, when he crawls up from the pit that orgasm threw him into, he reaches up and undoes the tie with a quick jerk of his wrist. She pulls her hands free and sighs as movement returns. He is hot against her back, and she takes his arm and wraps it around her waist gently as he lies half on top of her, drifting.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks gently into her ear, and she smiles.

Leave it to Bobby to miss the extremely large orgasm she just had. "No, Bobby. You didn't hurt me. In fact, you made me feel... God."

He smiles, reassured against shoulder, and she feels his soft kiss there a moment later. "It wasn't too intense?"

She pauses and thinks back. There were times when she would have done anything to get him to stop and just fuck her, but there wasn't a single moment that she can identify as unpleasant or scary. Her head is shaking before she comes to her final decision. Damn subconscious. "It was intense, but... I liked it. God, Bobby, I liked it a lot."

"Thank God," he whispers soft against her skin, and she turns around in the cradle of his body to face him. His head is now resting on the pillow right next to her. They look eye to eye with each other. She smiles at him and he grins back. "I really liked doing that to you."


"It was..." he looks for the right word. "Empowering, in a way. To know that you trusted me that much."

She smiles to herself. "Dominance suits you." His brow furrows, and she sighs gently. "Yes Bobby, what we just did classifies as a Dominant/submissive thing. Call it what you will in your own head, that was about you taking control."

"Oh," he says, his brow still furrowed. There's a frown on his face that worries her just a little bit. She touches his cheek, and he looks up at her nervously. "Alex... I liked that."

"You mentioned."

"No," he clarifies. "I mean, I *really* liked that." He looks disturbed and it takes her a moment to realize why.

"You'd like to do it again," she says, and hot pokers could not make her admit to the little happy dance her insides do when she hears that. He bites his cheek.

"I would. I mean... I'd never want to do that to you-- degrade you or take control of you-"

"Even if I let you?" she asks, and she can see that *that* idea didn't occur to him. " Bobby, there's a difference between taking someone else's control away because they offer it to you and from taking it away by force. I trust you not to hurt me." She grins and stretches. "And, hey, let's face it, it's not like you'd be the only one getting anything out of it."

He looks at her, as if seeing her for the first time all over again. It reminds her of the first night he saw her naked-- the night they became lovers. He held her in his bed and traced lines down her body with this look of awe upon his face. It's a look she had never seen a man hold in his eyes when he looked at her, and it made her feel like everything was okay because he was looking at her.

"Bobby," she purrs against his throat, "sleep on it, and in the morning we'll talk after I've had some coffee. Then we'll discus whether or not we want to pursue this." Her mouth appears, hot and wet on his, and he closes his eyes as she takes all of his doubt in and destroys it with her tongue and teeth. "Get some sleep. After that, I need some serious recoop time."

He smiles gently and wraps her up against him. The veil of her hair covers his eyes as she drifts off next to him, and he clings to her quietly, surely.

Desperate for her.

Feedback. It's akin to a mitzvah.