Author's notes: Hey everyone!
This one shot takes place just before 3x12
Please let me know your thoughts, especially on the whole smut thing. Would you like more smut? Would you like me to write things that don't have smut in them?
I hope you enjoy!
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"When you look at me
And the whole world fades
I'll always remember us this way"
-Always Remember Us This Way from "A Star Is Born" soundtrack
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He likes to take his time around her. Andy knows that much already.
In the first few times she shared his bed with him, when their clothes were stripped off and the rush and anticipation took their place on their skin, when his eyes wandered and his fingers caressed every curve and every bend of her body, she thought it was just the excitement of a new beginning. She believed that he was just trying to get to know her, the little things that make her arch her back into his touch, and the ones that make her sigh in pleasure.
Andy believed that once he got to know his way around her body, once they will become more familiar with each other's needs and wants, the way he moves around her will change. She thought that once he had seen it all, he wouldn't be as fascinated by the way she jumps slightly when he first touches her just in the right spot.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
If anything, his complete awe of her just grew deeper as they kept coming back for more, never getting enough of each other. She feels like he sees her body as a road map, or a book, one he has to remember, memorize cover to cover.
Tonight though, tonight is different.
It is late, later than they usually stay awake in order to indulge in each other. They have already done it twice. Once when they just made it home. She had control over that one, and it was rough, dirty, messy, even. It was all bites and sucks and the noise of skin moving, grinding against skin. They didn't even make it to the bedroom, just let all their inhibitions go and fucked each other senseless on the sofa.
When they finally made it to the bedroom, hours later, he was the one to have control, because they usually play a fair game.
They made love to each other.
She used to hate that expression, used to think it was a way of overly romanticizing a primary action that two human beings engaged in together since the dawn of days. A way to make an action that belongs solely to the body, one that comes from the soul.
Yet with him, she can't deny it. She can't deny the way her heart swells when he touches her, the way she can sense his love for her with every kiss he places softly on her skin, with every slightest move his hips make when they find the right rhythm.
And maybe they are making love to each other, because there is no other explanation to the way the afterglow is almost as pleasurable for her as an orgasm is. She has no other explanation for the way he cares about her satisfaction, for the way he controls his urges until he makes sure she is sated.
They have done it twice by now today, and it is late, and they are due to show up in the station early tomorrow morning, but for some reason, he is reluctant to leave her body. His hands are still everywhere, prolonging that satisfying feeling that has taken place inside of her after she calmed down from her high. She is lying half on top of him, her head resetting against his chest, her belly pressed tightly against his. He isn't hard, so she knows he isn't trying to lead them into another time when he moves inside her, yet still he can't stop touching her. His fingers are twirling with the ends of her hair, his hands caressing her long spine, his lips kiss the top of her head.
