Beneath Your Beautiful (A Chenford | The Rookie Fanfic)

Part Ninety-Six: It's My Birthday!

Week 6, Day 7: Saturday

Tim holds his hand out to Lucy where she is perched at the edge of a booth chatting with a few of her friends from work. He juts his chin in the direction of the dance floor, "C'mon."

Her eyes widen in surprise, "What?"

He huffs an impatient sigh. "You wanna dance or what?"

Lucy stares at him, mouth falling partially agape until she snaps it closed and scrambles to her feet, "Um, yes!"

She allows him to lead her to the floor, looking as though she's contemplating whether production had swapped Tim for a stunt double and she hadn't noticed.

"You don't have to act like it's such a big deal, you know?" he grouses as he takes her hand in his and settles his other hand on her waist.

"I know... I just thought you hated dancing?"

"I don't hate dancing. I just prefer not to do it in crowded nightclubs."

"Or at Latin dance classes?"

"Or at Latin dance classes," he agrees, lips curving into a smile as he spins her in time to the music. "Though, in my defense—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... I know. You were off saving the world, catching missiles, and thwarting bioterrorism plots..."

He shrugs nonchalantly, "Someone's gotta do it."

Conversation stops as they lose themselves to the music, both fighting to catch their breath as the song ends, and the post-karaoke band switches to something with a slightly slower tempo. Lucy tilts her head back to look up at him, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed, and for a moment he forgets himself, forgets where they are, forgets anything beyond the woman standing in front of him and looking up at him like he's made her whole damn day with a single dance.

He takes hold of the back of her neck and dips his head to kiss her, barely even hearing her squeak of surprise in response to the unexpected display of affection. Her lips are soft and pliant against his own, and she is all sweetness and warmth as her surprise melts into a sigh of pleasure, and she twines her arms around his neck to return the kiss.

"Get a room!" Angela and Jackson heckle in unison from where they are downing tequila shots at the bar together, and Tim rolls his eyes as Lucy begins to laugh against his lips. He allows his forehead to fall against hers as their lips separate.

"What do you say we get out of here, birthday girl?"

***

He's exhausted when he finally climbs into bed next to an already asleep Lucy later that night — taking Kojo out, locking up, showering, and the rest of his bedtime routine had taken longer than he would have liked, and his eyes are half-closed before his head even hits the pillow.

He reaches for her, slipping his arm around her waist from behind, and his eyes snap open when his hand comes into contact with bare skin and then more bare skin, his exploration unhindered by the presence of any clothing.

Tim's groan is audible when Lucy sleepily turns toward him. "You're naked," he states in an impressive display of his deductive reasoning skills.

"It's my birthday," she returns sweetly, showing off the brilliance of her own observational prowess as she slips her arms around his neck and tugs him down to meet her for a sleepy kiss.

"Are you sure?" he growls, hands greedily sliding over her supple curves. "It's kind of feeling like it might be my birthday."

"Mmm..." Lucy stifles a yawn, "Well, maybe it can be yours, too. I'm very benevolent, you know?"

Tim snorts with laughter, wondering how she can possibly still be half-asleep in these conditions as, for the millionth time, he marvels at how perfectly her ass fills his palm. "And how exactly would that work, Your Royal Highness?"

She throws her leg over him, cuddling closer into him, until her face is tucked into the hollow of his neck. "I think... we can share it," her lips brush against his skin as she responds, "I think... I want to share everything with you, Tim."

She is already fast asleep by the time Tim is able to swallow back the unexpected well of emotion in his throat. "I want to share everything with you, too, Lucy."

***

Week 7, Day 1: Sunday

Lucy groans, covering her face with her hands as she sleepily turns in Tim's arms the next morning.

"Morning, sunshine," his first words of the day are a throaty rumble.

She peeks up at him over her hands. "Mmm... god... did I really get naked and then just pass out on you? I'm such a tease." She buries her face against his chest.

He laughs softly, gently tipping her chin up to get her to look at him. "Look, Lucy. I'm very benevolent. You're allowed to get naked with me whenever you want. There doesn't have to be a reason. In fact, if you just want to be naked all the time, we could probably work something out."

She snorts with laughter. "What did I do to deserve such a prince?" But while her words are mocking, the adoration in her eyes is not.

"Well... it just so happens that I am still naked," she wiggles her eyebrows, while simultaneously dragging her toe up the length of his calf.

"Are you?" Tim lifts the cover up and peers underneath as if to verify the validity of her statement, "Interesting... I hadn't noticed."

Her cheeks tinge just the slightest shade of pink when his gaze lingers far longer than necessary. She playfully pushes him back and reclaims the cover, pulling it back against her chest.

"And... it is still my birthday."

"Is that so?" A low growl erupts from his throat, and both of his hands disappear back under the blankets to grip her by the curve of her hips and haul her back against him so that every bit of her is pressed up against him.

He squeezes her butt with both hands. "And what does that have to do with it?"

"You know..." she nuzzles her nose against his, and he's unable to suppress his grin even as he shakes his head, eyes going wide in feigned cluelessness as he waits for her to spell it out.

"You owe me, Timothy..." she presses a seductive kiss to the corner of his mouth. And this time it's her hand that disappears under the sheets.

He arches a cocky eyebrow, enjoying the feel of her fingers trailing down his abs toward the waistband of his shorts. "Owe you what, exactly?"

His swagger lasts only about as long as it takes her to slip her hand into his boxers, his breath hitching as she wraps her fingers around his length.

The tables turn, and he feels the buzz of anticipation and loss of control that comes with knowing just how good she can make him feel, how much just one touch can put him completely at her mercy.