Coffee Break

by Wesa

Disclaimer: They're not mine, much as I might wish they were.

Category: PWP (Okay, maybe there's a teensy little plot in there somewhere. But it's just an excuse.)

Rating: R. At least. For explicit hetero sex. I'd have made it more explicit, but I was even starting to disgust me.

Apology: To Claudia, for stealing her idea. Try to one-up me, Mob-Boss! Pleeeease?

Dedication: To the Ladies of the Sith, for their evil support and encouragement. ¡Gracias, mi hermanas!

By Wesa.

"Now, this is a very strong potion, child," warned Madame Rue. "Do not give him too much, just a few drops in a beverage or placed on the skin. It will stain the skin, so put it in a place which will not show."

"But I give it to him?" Katrina asked for confirmation. "I don't take it myself?"

The ancient gypsy smiled, showing a gold-capped incisor. "It wouldn't hurt you, but from what you tell me, you don't need it for yourself. If you take it, too, be sure that the two of you are not going to be interrupted for several hours."

Katrina smiled, contemplating the vial of red liquid. "How long until it takes effect?"

"In most cases, its effects are almost instantaneous," was the reply. "He will be able to resist a single low dose. Repeated low doses will overcome most men's inhibitions."

"How often can I give it to him?"

"It is non-toxic, so you can give him a second dose as soon as the effects of the previous one have worn off. Do give him a chance to urinate once in a while, though," the old woman added. "If you truly care about this man, you don't want his kidneys to back up."

"No," agreed Katrina, "especially as there would be an investigation. How much do I owe you?" She paid the requested amount, and left the gypsy's small shop, the vial securely hidden in her jacket pocket.

Corporal Stavrakos waited for her on the sidewalk. "Wha'd'ja get, Kasey?" he asked.

"None of your business," Sergeant Katrina Coleman retorted, striding toward the car they'd brought to town. "Let's go. We're going to be late as it is."

"Not if I can help it," he replied. "Let me drive?"

Coleman barely hesitated. "Not a chance," she told him. "Get in. Did you get what you wanted?" she asked as she got behind the wheel.

Stavrakos held out his purchase as he got in on the passenger side of the car, a copy of Cosmic Voyage by Courtney Brown, Ph.D.

"A book?" Coleman asked in astonishment.

"Might be something in here that can help us," Stavrakos insisted. "This guy writes about a CIA/Army Black Ops program that got started in the early eighties back in Washington, a new way of spying on the Soviets."

"How could that help us?" Coleman demanded. "We don't even know where they are!" She negotiated a sharp left turn at speed, throwing Stavrakos against the passenger door.

"Exactly!" he crowed triumphantly. "This is a book about remote viewing. If he doesn't have anything in the book about where they are, maybe there will be enough that I can learn to do it, or maybe Dr. Blackwood could."

She glanced at him dubiously as she sped out of the city toward the Cottage. "Remote viewing?" she repeated. "How does it work?"

"If I knew that," Stavrakos told her, rather disrespectfully, "I would've written the book myself. So what did you get?"

She gave him a look calculated to turn wine to vinegar. "Woman stuff. Now, aren't you glad you asked?" she told him indignantly.

Stavrakos had the grace to turn red-faced, and abruptly dropped the subject.

Coleman smothered a smile, glad, not for the first time in her life, that the subject of uterine bloodshed was so embarrassing to males.

*****

Katrina considered putting the contents of the vial into the coffee, but that would affect other people than the one she wanted, and put the child in danger as well. Katrina wanted to target only the one man, so she planned carefully, fully aware that her plans might be superceded by an emergency. But she had to try...

She made sure to serve him his coffee at least once each day, doctoring it with three drops from the vial each time. After the third day, she was pretty certain that the potion was working, because every time he looked at her, he got a strange expression on his face and looked quickly away.

The evening after their next operation, when she could be fairly certain that they wouldn't be called into action again that night or the next day, Katrina scouted out the locations of the various team-members. As she expected, Dr. McCullough checked on her daughter, then went to bed herself, exhausted. Dr. Blackwood , as usual, went into his study to meditate. Norton Drake, their somehow-cool computer geek, was in his comfort zone, the computer lab. And Colonel Ironhorse had gone into his office, ostensibly to catch up on the paperwork that had piled up over the past two days; it was a perfect opportunity to put her plan into action.

She left the other members of Omega Squad to their after-action boasting session, and went to her own quarters, private by reason of her rank and gender, to shower and to remove the stubble from her legs and underarms. Afterward, she dressed carefully in the shortest miniskirt she owned, topped with a soft pullover shirt; nothing too fancy. She didn't want to be too obvious, but she didn't wear any underwear, either.

She made coffee, doctored his cup with ten drops of the potion to insure his cooperation in her plan, and took it to his office, where she paused and knocked on the door.

"Enter!" he called.

Katrina opened the door and went in. "I saw your light was still on, Colonel, and thought you might want a cup of coffee and a little help." She put the cup on his desk near his hand and stood close enough that she was fairly certain he could smell the scent of the lotion she'd used after her shower. "What else would you like me to do?" she asked, knowing the answer before she'd asked it.

He smiled uncertainly, clearly ill at ease. "If you wouldn't mind, Sergeant, you could file these for me," he suggested, handing her a thick sheaf of papers.

She smiled as she took them, saying, "No, sir, I wouldn't mind at all." In fact, she had been counting on it. She went to his filing cabinet, beginning at the top drawer, and working her way down, making sure that he had plenty of time to drink his coffee before she got to the bottom drawer, bending over to make sure he got a good look up her skirt. She heard the sharp intake of breath behind her, then the sound of chair wheels moving over the short-pile carpeting followed by stealthy footsteps.

She heard the deadbolt lock turn, but didn't react, calmly filing as if nothing was going on. Well, almost as if; she would have to double-check everything she'd done tonight. But that was for later.

"Sergeant." The Colonel's voice was slightly unsteady.

"Yes, sir!" Katrina stood upright and turned.

"Sergeant, did you forget something?"

"I don't think so, sir." She looked up at him, reminded once more that he was bigger and stronger than she was. He was standing so close that she could smell him, the slightly musky, faintly spicy male odor of him. She thought his scent might be the reason she had finally been driven to go to the gypsy for the potion.

"Sergeant...Are you...I don't want to offend you, but...Are you coming on to me?"

Katrina bit her lip uncertainly. He could put her on report. He could send her away. Certainly he would do one or both if he knew that she had drugged him. On the other hand, he might want to fuck her. She decided again to gamble. "Yes, sir. I was beginning to think you would never notice," she told him.

"So you really didn't forget your panties?"

"No, sir. I didn't want anything in your way."

A wolfish smile crossed his face. "Nothing?" he repeated.

"Sir, I'm clean. And I snuck a look at your medical file; I know you are, too." Cautiously she stretched her neck upward and nibbled at his upper lip.

She found herself crushed against him, his tongue probing at her lips, and she opened her mouth to him and put her arms around his neck. His hand moved up her right thigh under her skirt and curved around her butt cheek. With one arm around her back and his other hand under her ass, he lifted her and carried her over to his desk, where he put her down on top of whatever he had been working on. He put his hands under her shirt and covered her breasts, roughly thumbing her erect nipples.

Katrina moaned softly and spread her thighs wide. "Yes," she whispered, lifting her knees. "Oh, please..."

Ironhorse pulled off her shirt, then his. He nipped at her throat, at her shoulder, at her breasts, then settled in to kiss and lick at her breasts, to suck at her nipples. He growled softly as he pushed her skirt up around her waist and bent lower to taste of her vulva. As he lapped at her fluids, Katrina heard the sound of his zipper being drawn down, followed by the rustle of clothing as he pushed down his jeans. Knowing she would see his penis for the first and possibly the only time, she raised herself up onto her elbows to look at it.

At almost the same time, he spread her folds with his thumbs, and Katrina got only a glimpse of his flesh before he plunged it into her. She gasped at the sudden invasion, but he took hardly any notice, too lost in the sensation of plunging into her. He held her by her butt, and thrust hard and fast, grunting rhythmically as he rode her to a quick orgasm. He groaned harshly as he spurted into her, straining, his face twisting as if he was in pain.

Katrina gazed up at him, delighted with the expression on his face, thrilled that she could give him such pleasure, disappointed that she had been left behind.

After a moment, he relaxed, panting. "That was incredible," he murmured.

She reached up and caressed his cheek tenderly. "You were wonderful," she told him.

"But you didn't come," he protested.

"That's okay," she told him, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She could feel him going soft inside her.

"No, it isn't," he objected. "Do you have any more of whatever you've been giving me?"

Katrina gasped. "You knew?"

He smiled. "I had an erection every time you brought me coffee, but not when I saw you other times, and not when I drank other coffee. It seemed sort of obvious. Did you drug my coffee tonight?"

"Yes, sir," she mumbled.

"Paul."

"What?"

"When we're having sex, Katrina, I want you to call me Paul." He reached for his cup, drained the now-cold leftover coffee in one gulp, and was rewarded with an immediate hardening of his penis. "Now, about your orgasm..." He rubbed hard at her flesh and kissed her tenderly. "Do you want it gentle or hard?"

"Hard,...Paul,...please...Please!" She wrapped her arms around his back and her legs around his hips, giving herself up to him. "We can do gentle another time...Oh, God...oh, God ..... ohmigod!" She clutched at him as he thrust into her, keening shrilly as she neared climax, completely unable to restrain herself. Only her breathlessness kept them undiscovered.

Again and again he brought her to orgasm, finally gasping out, "Can't...last...much...longer..." He groaned deeply, crushing her tightly to his chest as they came together.

Afterward, Katrina looked up at him in gratitude. "Paul...thank you, Colonel," she whispered in an effort to resume their professional relationship.

He would have none of it. "I will not call you 'Sergeant' in bed-or on desk, as the case may be," he insisted. "You call me Colonel in public, or when we're working, but when I'm inside you, I'm Paul. Unless this is a one-night stand?"

"Do you mean you want to do this again?" she asked happily.

"I can't ask you to," he murmured, "but if you want to, too, yes. I'd very much like to do this again. And again." He kissed her. "When our clothes go back on, I have to be 'Colonel' again, but for now..." He kissed her again and got up off of her. "If you want to be with me again," he said, pulling up his jeans, "just offer me a cup of coffee."