Waking Hours
by B. Cavis

Waking Hours
by B. Cavis

Bobby has long since accustomed himself to having fantasies about his partner. Wet dreams, flashes of imagined nudity-- he understands that these kinds of things are natural when you've worked with someone as long as he has Alex. Dreams happen.

What he is not accustomed to, however, is the sudden change in himself. His newly found tendency to actively seek out these fantasies. Wishing they would happen. Trying to turn every situation he can into one of the scenarios bouncing around in his large cranium, with porno like coincidence.

Bobby has begun to actively want his partner. Which is far more complicated than he could have imagined it would ever be.

Not that he's complaining, mind you.

However, as he sits on his couch and stares blankly at the inane sports chatter playing across the screen (and tries most pointedly not to listen to the rustle of fabric coming from his bathroom door), he has to admit to himself that this has gotten a little ridiculous. What possible partnerly reason could he have for inviting Alex back to his apartment to *take a shower*?

"I just feel so tired," she'd groaned after the third all-nighter in as many days. The man they'd be slaving after was led away in handcuffs over her right shoulder, and Bobby sighed in agreement.

"Yeah," he'd said. "It'll feel good to crawl into bed and never move again."

"Lucky you. My apartment's being renovated. Construction, construction, construction. Even my shower is too noisy for me to relax in it." He'd had a sudden flash of a wet, naked, slick Alex Eames in a three by five space (just enough room) running a bar of soap over breasts that couldn't possibly be that big, her head tipped back to meet the stream of water with an open mouth.

"Come use mine," he'd offered breathlessly. She'd raised an eyebrow. "I mean it. The couch pulls out-- it's pretty comfortable. Can't have my favorite partner ill rested and... cranky."

"I don't get cranky." She'd pouted, then sighed and nodded. "Okay."

"Great."

Which leads him back here. Sitting in his living room. Staring at the television screen. And wondering how Alex would react if he undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and went to join her in the bathroom, rubbing his pants against her until quick little fingers unbuckled and unzipped him, reached into his trousers, and...

"It's about time you got the hint," she purrs into his mental ears. She's wet and slippery, but he manages to grab her around the waist and hoist her up after she undoes his pants and frees him from his boxers. His cock bounces up, happy and eager to meet the woman he's been aching to fuck for the past year and a half.

He shoves her back into the shower, ignoring the fact that he's still wearing pants. She squeals as the hot water hits her again, but the extreme temperature change forces her nipples up to greet him, and he grins.

"Oh yeah," he growls, "I got the hint."

She's twisting in his arms, and he knows he has to do something before he ends up dropping her. The shower wall is clean, remarks a little voice on his shoulder, and he braces himself in response.

Alex looks beautiful pressed up against blue tiles. And she screams beautiful when he takes his cock in hand, pushes her against said blue tiles, and sinks it into her.

...dear God he is going to kill himself at this rate.

The water is spraying everywhere, sliding down both of their bodies. Alex is gasping and hot and oh so tiny around him, and he can imagine how it feels on her end-- like he's stretching her farther than she can go and then some. Her head is flailing and twisting, her perfect chest swelling and deflating with quickly drawn puffs of air. She wants this so bad, he thinks evilly, and I'm going to be the one to give it to her...

The bathroom door creaks, and Bobby pulls his reality worn hand away from his tie (now how did that get up there?) quickly. It sort of scares him that without even thinking about it, his dream rich mind could focus on Alex and force his body to de-robe without a second thought.

Best to retain control, he thinks, and shoves his hand under his own butt to keep it still. Like he was five years old and being told not to touch anything delicate in a store.

Alex pokes her head out of the bathroom and blinks up at him through the steam. "Do you have any extra towels?"

He clears his throat and tries to ignore how rosy her face has become from the wet heat of the shower. "Under the sink," he grunts out.

Oh dear God, are her shoulders bare? If her shoulders are bare, than there's a good chance the rest of her is too, underneath her shoulders that is.

Could her breasts really be that perfect? That absolutely beautiful and lush and full? His flexible mind flashes to an image that he's never seen-- Alex lying on his bed, bare skinned and soft, her hands tied to his metal work headboard as she offers up her body and control for his pleasure.

The idea is absurd.

There's a thin sheet of perspiration covering her, and she smells like pre-sex and lust. Her breasts shift on her chest, nipples perked up and skin flushed, as she plants her feet firm on the bed and lifts her hips into the air, spread wide and wanting.

"Bobby," she gasps on his mental terrain, "please. Fuck me. Make me come, make me come..." And the idea of him being on the bed with her makes her so nuts that she thrashes her head from side to side in lust and need. Her fingers clench around the neck tie holding her captive, loving and hating it at the same time.

For some reason there's a vibrator inside her (God only knows where he'd gotten that), and the power is holding her on edge for as long as possible. She's been wanting release for hours now, begging and panting in delicious agony as he watches, silent and commanding, from her bedside chair. Watching...

Bobby takes a pillow and slyly slips it over his lap.

That's enough fantasy, his mind screams, it's time for some reality. But his balls have somehow managed to take control of the rest of his body, and he finds himself trying to surreptitiously shift his head to one side to see more of her flesh.

Alex smiles at him. He's started to look a little pained, and she can't understand why. She's usually able to make her partner smile no matter what the circumstances, and it brings her an enormous amount of pleasure and relief to be able to do so. It is her touchstone in uncertain times, and for a moment she thinks that maybe the past few days have ragged upon him more than she previously thought.

Best to try, just to be sure.

"Don't look so glum partner," she laughs softly. "I promise not to use all of your conditioner." And once she's sure he's laughing too, she pulls her head back inside the bathroom and closes the door, her lips spread wide in a grin of satisfaction. There, she thinks happily, that should do it for a while longer.

Bobby stares at the space she just occupied, presses the pillow firmly down onto his groin, and blows all the air out of his lungs in one fell breath. Her pleased smile enters into his head, peach colored lips sliding into his mind. And his head flies to what else Alexandra Eames could do with those lips.

He has absolutely no idea if Alex would ever even consider giving him head-- or if she gives head at all. For all he knows, she finds the idea morally and physically repugnant.

However, this is the one part of Bobby's life where he is normal. Libido is the connecting factor with all men, and this is the one aspect of his personality that is on par with every other male on Earth. He relishes in that sameness. It feels good to be horny and normal.

So even though she might be repulsed by the idea, in Bobby's brain, Alex gets down on her knees and slowly drags the flat of her tongue over the thickened head of his cock.

Bobby groans quietly and shifts against the pillow.

She spreads her thighs wide, so that she's using the pressure from them and the ground to keep her at just the right level. Her eyes come up to meet his, edged in the eyeliner that she only puts on when she's having a low self confidence day (which makes her eyes look like she's begging for a fuck). And he watches, transfixed, as she traces the vein running along the side of his cock, before groaning open mouthed against it, and going back up to swallow the head whole.

"Oh yeah, baby," he groans in the imaginary place that doesn't have his partner in the next room (within friggin' hearing distance, his common sense shouts). "Fucking suck me."

He imagines that he is able to get her off on the sound of his voice alone. After all, what is a fantasy if not everything he wants it to be. Alex doesn't move her head from her task of sucking him off, and one hand remains wrapped around his base, but the other pale little appendage trails down her body, shifts her panties to one side, and dives on in.

He laughs in pure joy at watching her do this. Power is a heady aphrodisiac. "Nice, Alex. Come on, move your mouth a little bit faster, and maybe I'll let you come." The words would sound ridiculous on his flesh and blood tongue, but his mental body holds his dominance with ease, and his partner's (Godsobeautiful) mental body responds in kind.

Her mouth increases suction, her eyes closed tight in wanting and need. There's a wet sucking sound whenever she moves her fingers, and he settles back with his hands behind his head to watch as she moves her own hand desperately between her thighs, wanting, needing to release that ache that *he's* put there.

"You wanna come, Alex?" Pant. Nod. "Bring me off and then we'll talk." She gasps around him, moaning, and the vibrations run through him like a live wire. "Come on, get to it." He thrusts up at her, and she moves her head accordingly, sucking harder and moving up and down faster and with less and less of a set pace.

He can feel his balls tightening, can feel her mouth going slack around him as her own need increases to a point that it's become distracting. He thrusts up, once, twice, three times, and his head rolls back with a groan as he explodes into her mouth. The small "eep" she makes it so unlike Alex that it almost makes him want to laugh.

Almost.

When he floats down from the rush of getting a submissive blow job, Alex is still posed in front of him. She's sitting on the floor of his mind, frustrated and wet, looking up at him for what he promised. She cleans the taste of him out of her mouth with her tongue and gives a needy whine in the back of her throat. He looks down at her, sighs, and pats his lap. Time to be generous.

Alex crawls up to sit on him, tiny in comparison to every inch of his bulk. He's at least twice her size, and she feels dwarfed and childlike next to him. He imagines that, unlike the frustration it causes her as a professional, the sheer size of him makes her content and heated as a woman.

God he wants to make her content and heated.

"You wanna come?" He asks again, and she nods eagerly. "Okay." He pulls her by the hips, closer for more contact, and takes her tiny left hand in his. The heat between her thighs is pressed up against his lower abdomen, and he inserts her own fingers into her cunt with surgical precision. She groans. Hard.

"Go," he whispers, and takes one breast in each hand, flicking his thumbs over puckered little nipples. Her fingers start to move inside her own body obediently, and he can feel the pulse of hot sticky arousal coming out of her at a faster pace. He bends his head to take one of her nipples in his mouth, grinding at it mercilessly. Alex sobs, hot and wanting, shaking on his lap like she's in the middle of a seizure.

A seizure that *he's* given to her, crows his mental voice, and Alex gives another moan as his teeth increase the pressure. Oh to be large and in charge and in love with a woman half your size and double your sex drive.

"You ready?" He asks her in that dark, unaffected voice that is so not his. Alex groans and nods, fingers moving fast and recklessly. He drops her breasts, wraps his hands around her waist and squeezes. "Okay. Come." He slaps one meaty hand down on her ass and the top of her head blows off as she throws it back, screaming, coming, and begging all at once.

Alex, Alex, Alex...

The shower in the next room turns off. Bobby quickly stops his frantic gyrating against the pillow and takes up the remote, changing the channel to the five o'clock news.

God damn it.

There is a bit of rustling from within the bathroom, and he does not imagine her running the towel over skin that Mental Bobby tasted less than a minute ago. He focuses on the annoyingly cheerful banter between the news anchors, and blinds out all other distractions.

Which is why Alex has to stand in front of his with a towel for nearly a minute before he even realizes that she's there.

Oh, he thinks, so that's what her skin looks like.

Damn, he thinks a second later, I am so completely and utterly screwed.

"Uh, Bobby?" Alex is dripping onto the floor. Her confidence is not what it should be. "Do you think I could borrow something to sleep it?"

His ingrained good manners leap to attention. "Oh, yeah, um, sorry." He darts to the bedroom and pulls his dresser drawer open. An over sized t-shirt and a pair of shorts are produced and he scoops them up like they're precious offerings and heads back to the living room.

She's sitting on the couch watching the weather report. He hands her the clothes, and she smiles.

"Oh, hey, look, a dress," she remarks as she holds the t-shirt up. He smirks in spite of himself. "Be right back." She rises with her new found night clothes and goes back into the bathroom, undoing her towel as the door closes. He catches a glimpse of her bare ass, winces, and sit back down on the couch.

The pillow is *so* his friend tonight.

Alex is on all fours this time. She complained about being too exhausted to come after doing it last time in his lap, but he ate her out until she was panting and wet for more, then turned her over and pushed her up on her knees. He knows how to work Alex to get the response he wants.

Her cute little heart shaped ass is turned up at him, tiny and perfect. He slides a finger around the crinkled muscle and she whimpers. He can almost hear her saying "No one's ever been up there" in the little girl voice that all of the pornos have made use of at least once. The dominant tone his fantasies have taken this evening (something he will psycho-analyze later and decide is the result of having her "helpless" in his personal space) is still firmly in place, and he pushes forward with no doubts in his body.

"You up for something new, Alex?" he asks softly, and she sighs in response. Even his dominant mind set can't erase his ingrained need to be told it's all okay, and the idea of hurting Alex even in his head is unsettling.

But, after all, this is his fantasy. Alex moans and pants and arches her back like a cat. "Bobby, oh God, just take me..."

That's all the reassessment he needs.

He's been fucking her the whole time, and with the new train their conversation has taken, she's gotten wetter and even more responsive than normal. He pulls out, wet and shinning with the evidence of her high arousal all over him. She wants this bad, he thinks, and I am just the guy to give it to her.

The bathroom door opens once again, and Bobby comes back to himself with enough speed to smile distractedly at Eames and pat the spot on the sofa next to him, friendly and polite. She smiles back, sits beside him and sighs. She's swimming in his clothes, and the fact that she looks so cute in them makes him a little bit happier than he has a right to be.

"It's not fair that you're so big," she accuses quietly. "Me needing to tie a knot in your waist band to hold these things up is a cosmic joke."

He grins at her and slips his arm playfully around her shoulders. The lack of sleep and the overabundance of fantasy has made him comfortable with the added affection. "Yeah, but would you really want me any other way? I'd be a bad short person, Alex. It's just not in my blood."

She laughs and settles into his embrace. "Fine, leave being short to me. I'll suffer alone and in silence."

"You saint, you."

They watch the news, friendly and soft together, and Bobby's mind drifts away from dirty sex and hot fucking in unlikely situations. He loves his partner when she's like this-- unguarded and beautiful and content just to be around him. It happens so rarely on the job, and it's always a special occasion when she slips into that state of mind.

Blame the exhaustion, he thinks, not his personality, but they both fall asleep on each other, lying on his couch with Tom Brokaw playing in the background.

"Bobby," Alex groans some time during the AM hours. "Let's go to bed."

He blinks up at her stupidly. "Bed?"

She nods dumbly and grabs him by the arm. "The couch is.. hurt-y."

"'Kay."

They stumble their way into the bedroom, kicking the blankets down and crawling underneath. He flops onto his back, and she groans and crawls up beside him for the warmth that she had had on the couch. He spreads his arms wide, accommodatingly, and she sighs.

"Night, Bobby."

"G'Night, Alex."

God but she always feels so good.

Lips pressing a soft trail against his chest, hands curled into all those places on his body that need a good stroking, tongue bathing his skin in warmth and lust. If there is a more welcomed alarm clock, he hasn't met it yet.

Bobby wonders if she might be convinced to...

"Uhhhhhhhh..."

Alex slips her pale little hands under his shirt and inches it up over his head in between licks at his throat and random nibbles. He grabs it and throws it from his body impatiently. "Alex..." Her head doesn't move. He can feel her sharp teeth tasting his throat and the pale, hair dusted skin of his chest, and God this woman is so good at this.

She shifts her tiny waist and ass down, down, down his body, nestling against his crotch and rotating once, twice, three times. The thick hard on he's been sporting all day in one form or another eagerly presses against her, and she pants against his skin happily.

"All that for me?" Her rough voice asks. "Well, aren't I the lucky one?"

"Wanna fuck you," he groans in response, and she nods with a soft purr.

"Wanted it all night long, Bobby. Thought you'd never catch on." Her busy little hands grab and free him of his boxers, and his cock bounces up, ready for the now familiar feeling of his fantasy Alex's hot body moving against his. "You are thick," she says, and then laughs at the double meaning. "I like that about you, Bobby."

She looks down at him, hot and waiting, and he grins into her face. "You're tiny, Alex. I love that about you." He grabs her around the waist like he's imagined doing a thousand other times, lifts her up, and lines her up on his cock. She plants her hands on his chest, arches her back, and sinks down on him slowly.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Bobby thinks, and his eyes shoot open. This is real, hollers the tiny voice in his head. THIS IS REAL!

"Alex!"

Alex looks down at him, cocks and eyebrow and smirks. "Bobby, darling, there are times to talk, and then there are times when a wise man shuts up and goes with the fucking flow." Her hips swivel and she closes her eyes happily. "So go with the fucking flow."

Holy shit. Ho-ly Shiiiiiit. He thinks his eyes just melted in his head. His partner, the woman he has been lusting after for a long time, orchestrated the entire night. She jumped his bones.

Now how about that.

Well, he thinks, if that's the way it's going to be...

Bobby plants his feet on the bed and thrusts up into Alex. Her cunt shudders and her fingers tangle in his chest hair and her mouth goes nice and slack. "I could fuck you like this all night long, Alex," he groans, and she pants in response. "Have wanted you on me like this for a long ass time... Come on, ride me baby. Ride me."

Her eyes clench shut in concentration, and he can feel her tense around him in effort. Her whole body is tight and strung, and it feels like heaven and a half. "Bobby," she gasps, "touch me."

Don't have to tell me twice, he thinks cheerfully, and wraps his hands around the breasts that are just as perfect (if not as insanely large) as he had imagined them being only a few hours ago. One hand trails down to tangle in the soft blond curls that he never thought he'd be lucky enough to see. She mews and all of the breath washes out of her in one huge desperate cry.

"Like that, Alex? Huh? There?" He swivels his hips and squeezes her breast as his fingers increase their pace on her clit. She whines softly and falls forward, burying her teeth in his shoulder and whimpering in overload.

"Yeah, yeah, yeahhhh..."

He thrusts up into her frantically, needing the release that hasn't come at all tonight for his flesh and blood self. He can hear the sounds of the neighbors stirring, his coffee maker sputtering, the streets coming back to life. He can't see anything beyond her, and he hopes he never does.

Hot. Hot. Hot.

If she gets any tighter, if this gets any hotter, if his cock gets any harder...

Bobby throws his head back and wails as Alex sinks her jaws into his throat and pants hot and wet against him. He can feel his entire body liquefy and pour into her, coating her, marking her, joining with every inch of her body in one moment of sheer mindlessness. Alex is sobbing and pulsing and begging, and it takes him a second to realize that she's reached her peak already and he missed it with all the pulse, the pleasure, the heat...

Huh, his fuzzy brain thinks some minutes later, there are cracks in my ceiling.

And he must have said it aloud, because Alex starts to giggle helplessly against him, and he grins despite his exhaustion.

"You jumped me," he accuses, and she grins back.

"You weren't doing anything," she fires back and throws her hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head. "I'd been trying to get you to take some action all afternoon, and you just kept sitting there hugging that goddamn pillow over your erection." She sighs, and it occurs to him that she is an evil creature when she wants to be. "I thought I was going to have to strip naked and masturbate in front of you for you to get the hint."

The image he entertained before flashes in his head-- that Alex still hasn't gotten her release, and she's started to get desperate enough to rub her thighs together and sob for him to fuck her.

"This was hardly subtle," he accuses quietly, and she laughs. "I thought I was dreaming at first," he admits, and she smiles.

Her eyes sparkle cheerfully. "Dream about me a lot, do you?"

The four Alex's in his head, still begging for their releases, or in various states of post coital relaxation, enter in a split screen vision in front of his eyes, and he grins.

"You have no idea, Alex."

She smirks in self satisfaction and turns over to turn his alarm clock off. "We're sleeping in today," she announces. "Deakins will understand."

He nods in acquiescence, and smiles to himself. Whipped already. "Okay."

"And you, mister, are going to get some real sleep."

Nod. "Okay."

"And then, if you're really good," she purrs, licking his throat as sleep starts to take him once more. "I'll let you tell me about your fantasy women."

He grins and pulls her to lie across him. "Trust me, babe. If my luck up to this point is any indication, you'll meet them all soon enough."

FIN