Flip the Colleague [Flip Zimmerman]

Ch 6: Stay

A gentle touch at your forehead stirred you awake, his fingers carefully brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. You hadn't realized you'd fallen asleep, curled in on yourself on his bed, seeking comfort without meaning to. Your cheeks felt tight and sore, the evidence of dried tears upon your skin.

He sat on the edge of the mattress beside you, shoulders slumped, looking down at you as though committing this moment to memory. His expression was calm now, but his eyes were tired - worn in a way that spoke of regret and fear he hadn't said out loud. His hand moved slowly through your hair, a steady stroke with a grounding touch.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"'Bout two hours." His voice barely carried above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I need to learn to control myself."

You shifted slightly, leaning into the warmth of his hand. "Hey... you have every right to be angry. I'm angry, too." Your voice wavered despite your effort to keep it steady. "But I'm mostly sad because... well, I don't have much time. I have to report to my new unit on Monday."

You watched the words land, watched him absorb the detail you hadn't shared until now.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Flip muttered, exhaling as he tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling, as if it might offer him some mercy. He swallowed hard before lowering his gaze to you again. "Do you know how he found out? Who told him?"

"No."

Flip breathed out through his nose and turned away, eyes unfocused as he ran through names, faces, possibilities. You saw his jaw tighten, the familiar tell that he was trying to keep his thoughts in line. You knew who he was thinking of first - Ron Stallworth. His partner. His friend. The one person he didn't want to doubt.

But the detective in him didn't get that luxury.

"Monday, huh?" he scoffed, the word bitter on his tongue. Then he looked back at you, something dark and dangerous flickering behind his eyes, tempered by want. "Guess that means I've got to tie you to my bed and keep you prisoner for two days."

The joke didn't quite land the way he intended, but the crooked, devilish grin that followed softened it. He leaned down anyway, pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss started gently, as if he were reminding himself you were still here. Then it deepened, need slipping through restraint as his tongue traced yours and his body followed, settling over you like he was afraid to let go.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer, welcoming the familiar weight of him. You loved that feeling - being held there, pinned beneath him, safe and undone all at once. He let out a low sound against your mouth as your hips aligned, the reaction immediate, unmistakable.

His hand found your wrists, guiding them above your head, holding them there - not roughly, but firmly, like an anchor. His other hand traced a slow path along your face, down your neck, lingering as it cupped your breast. His mouth stayed on yours, hot and unrelenting, as if the kiss alone could keep Monday from coming.

When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to look at you. His breath was heavy, his expression raw, stripped of humor this time.

"I need you."

His eyes locked onto yours, intense and searching. You'd heard the words before, but this time they landed differently - weighted by the clock ticking somewhere beyond this room. A shiver ran through you, not from fear, but from the quiet understanding that this wasn't just want.

It was desperation wrapped in desire, and neither of you knew how to stop it.

You lifted your hips and, in one fluid motion, shifted until you were straddling him, your bodies fitting together as if they had memorized each other. Your hair fell loosely around your face as you looked down at him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He reached up with both hands, cupping your cheeks and drawing you back into a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of everything neither of you could say out loud.