Survivor - Connor x OC

Move Like U Stole It

ZZ Ward – Move Like U Stole It

WARNING: Shameless smut ahead. Read at your own peril.

Connor sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees and his eyes focused on the television. A news anchor was giving the latest details on the ongoing protests in Washington. He was following along well enough while also keeping one eye on Taylor.

The blonde was hunched over the table with her notebooks spread out before her, For the past few hours, she had been sifting through the pages, reading, taking down notes. Since they had the rest of the day free, she had determined to work on what she was going to say in the hearing tomorrow.

She'd changed, from the outfit she had worn to meet Secretary Headley into a baggy t-shirt and stretch pants. Now she was sitting, legs folded in the chair, chewing on the end of her pen while she flipped another page. Her stress levels fluctuated up every so often, but as many times as he offered to help, she just waved him off.

Her mood had been slightly off all day. Even now, after they had talked again about her leaving. He couldn't quite imagine it, and what he'd told her had been honest. It was just an abstract, and realistically they didn't know how long they would be in Washington, or how long after they headed back to Detroit before this would truly be over.

Still, she had left him before. For the revolution, she had left him standing in the Detroit Police precinct without knowing if she'd ever see him again, or if they would be enemies the next time they met. That was before he was deviant, though. Before he knew he loved her.

He did love her. That much he was certain about now. He would have to reconcile, eventually, with what he would do when she went back to Los Angeles. If he could convince her to stay. If he could somehow go with her, knowing he was leaving Hank behind.

Taylor sighed suddenly, dropping her pen on the table and unfolding her legs to stand. Several joints popped while she stretched, lifting both arms over her head. She exhaled again when she dropped them to her sides.

"Is it going well?" He asked, curious. She hadn't given him many specifics on what she was actually preparing, and he was doing his best not to bother her while she worked.

"I suppose," she said noncommittally, shrugging. "I don't really know what I'm preparing for, do I?"

She shifted her body so that she was facing him, placing her hands on her hips. Pursing her lips, she studied him in silence for a moment, the expression on her face curiously blank. He returned her gaze, getting lost in the blue of her eyes, until she took a decisive step toward him.

"Can I ask you something?" Her voice came out soft, but it was still clear over the miniscule volume of the television. She took another step, her eyes narrowing just slightly, leg almost touching his now.

"Anything." He answered, suddenly nervous, though he didn't understand why. Taylor took a final step so that she stood in front of him, blocking his view of the tv, and held out her hand in the space between them. He didn't break eye contact with her as he slid his fingers into hers, mesmerized by the look in her eyes.

"You can scan me all the time." She moved forward, slid herself onto his lap, until she was sitting on his knees. His hands moved to her hips reflexively, to steady her. He swallowed. "You can feel my heartrate, my breathing, my stress levels."

With her hands free, she slid her fingers along his tie and worked it loose. Her fingertips were surprisingly cold when they brushed against his collar, tugging at his buttons, and he shivered in anticipation. "You know how I'm feeling all of the time."