trigger_man | OOM: Night Before the Allpocalypse

She breaks away slowly, albeit reluctantly, turning her head to avert her gaze as she clears her throat.

"I - I'm sorry, that wasn't - I probably shouldn't have done that, you don't need - I mean, we were just supposed to be sleeping, and - did I mention I was sorry? I think I did," she finishes, with a nervous chuckle.

"Hey," he says, lifting one hand to cup her cheek, "there's no ned to apologize. I wasn't exactly pulling away."

"That's true," she adds, grinning crookedly as she tilts her head into his touch, nuzzling against his calloused palm.

"So it wasn't too forward of me?"

"It was...surprising, but I wouldn't say 'forward'," he says with a slight smile.

"No?"

Her own grin is more challenging. Daring.

"Why not?"

"Because that makes it sound like a bad thing."

"So it's not a bad thing," she murmurs, leaning close to hover.

"So it might not be bad if I wanted to do it again?"

"No, I don't think it would be."

And to prove his point, he lifts his head toward hers.

This time, it's more deliberate when her mouth closes over his, her hand sliding up to cup the side of his face as she deepens the kiss slowly, not rushing into things.

Then again, it's not like she has all the time in the world, either.

Neither of them do. And so Jack leans into the kiss with a little urgency, threading his fingers in her hair so he can pull her closer.

She breathes a sigh against his mouth, her head easing into the direction of his fingers as he uses his hold to pull her in, her upper half resting gently across his.

It's been a long time, even for her, but there's definitely the stirring of something deep down as she eases back from the kiss a little to remember how to catch her breath.

Jack needs a moment to catch his breath too; this is a little overwhelming after so long hardly even being touched by other people.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she promises, nodding quickly.

"Are you?"

"Yeah," he says, his hand on her back moving back down to her waist as he drops a small kiss on her jawline. "Better than fine."

Her body betrays her before she can get the words out, a shudder rippling through her as her lips peel back into a small smile.

"That sounds pretty good to me."

"Good," he says softly, kissing her a little closer to her ear.

He can feel her shudder and takes it as a good sign; at the moment he's going with instinct, because otherwise he doesn't really know what to do. Where to put his hands, how much might be going too far too soon.

He's starting to feel a bit like an awkward teenager again.

It's almost ridiculous, how much that one little kiss manages to get to her. She gets the impression she'd be fairly weak-kneed if they weren't already lying down.

She can't figure out what she wants to say next, so she settles for kissing him again - even if it really isn't settling, not the way she does it, parting her lips slowly for a deeper kiss to taste the whiskey on his mouth.

He opens his mouth to her, tasting her, feeling a thrill of excitement rush through him at the intimate contact.

Slowly, he rolls them onto their side so she isn`t looming over him, always mindful of the anxiety that might rear its ugly head and ruin things. He has to try and remember to breathe, that this is Beckett and he`s safe.

Not that that`s easy when she`s being so distracting.

It's easier this way, as he rolls them. It means when she bends her knee slightly, notching her thigh against his hip, she's pressing against him directly, his face cupped in her hand.

And yet she's still taking things slowly, letting him set the pace. She doesn't want to overwhelm him too suddenly.

For a couple minutes, this is okay, this is enough. Kissing her, feeling the soft brush of her lips on his, tasting her mouth. Slowly, he's remembering how to do this and getting used to having another warm body pressed against his. He rests his hand on her hip, drawing small arcs with her thumb.

No rush, no worries besides that tiny little voice in the back of his mind reminding him that this might be the last night of their lives. He can do this, at least so far.

Inevitably, she breaks away, though she doesn't go very far, turning her cheek against the pillow and hiding a small smile.

"Still okay?" she asks, lifting her hand to touch his face, her thumb tracing the angle of his jawline before smoothing over his cheek.

He turns his head slightly to kiss her cheek. "So far, so good."

Raising his head, he kisses her jaw again, then her throat. "How about we just...see where things go, and if I'm not comfortable, I'll let you go?"

Bad enough he has to be concerned that something's going to trigger a flashback; he doesn't want to kill the mood for her too, by having her worry about it.

"Well, I might not allow you to let go entirely," she murmurs, sighing softly as he kisses down the line of her throat.

"Your bed is super comfy." She smiles, laying back against the pillows again and pullin him down to her. "Take it as slow as you want."

It's a little easier with him leaning over her, and he takes full advantage. Another brief kiss on the lips, and then he moves back down, finding that little dimple at the base of her throat, the small piece of her collarbone that's exposed in the neck of her shirt.

At the moment, it's probably easier to give than receive, and he's more than happy to do so.

His mouth is what relaxes her, warm and gentle on her skin, but it also starts to stir her up again, making it impossible not to respond to the sensations, her eyes drifting shut as a small sigh escapes her.

He finds a slightly ticklish spot along the line of her throat and she laughs, breathless, before running her fingers along the curve of his back, following the hard muscle beneath his shirt.

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