The Adult Denby Fanfic Site

Complexity

"Diane, I can't concentrate on this with your hands all over my ass."

She giggled and ran her hand over him again.

"I can't help it."

"No, I suppose you can't, can you? Oh, well, I think I can remedy this situation."

"And how do you plan on doing that hmmm?"

"Simple; I can sit down."

She gave him a simperingly pathetic expression. He looked aghast for a moment, and then his handsome face transformed into a smile.

"You really need to work on this 'I-need-Denby-desperately' thing. So far it's not very believable."

She frowned and smacked him on the head with the paper that was sitting on the desk they were by.

"Serves you right."

He laughed and pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist but wasn't exactly melting into his embrace. Nuzzling his face by her ear, he spoke softly and felt the beginnings of goose bumps on her soft skin.

"What do you say we get out of here and have some dinner huh? If that's not what you want then I can think of plenty of things that are just as nice."

"Harry Denby, you are just too good at this sexual innuendo thing."

He laughed again, softly this time. He leaned his head against her own; one of his favorite intimate positions, and massaged her arms thoughtlessly. She loved it when he got like this; warm and kind and gentle. She found though, that that's who Denby was, he was just lost in his own drunken, psychoanalyzing facade.

In fact, since they had started this new relationship Harry had really lain off the sarcastic comments. Diane was half embarrassed to admit that she missed them sometimes. But they did still have their conversations about things. Full of life and love and heartbreak. Denby to the tee's.

She slipped around in his arms and kissed him lightly, kissed him and kissed him until her mouth was sore. After they broke apart studied his face for a moment.

"Do you have any idea how attractive you are?"

He smirked but it did not break the spell. But strangely, Harrison did not say anything. He just kissed her quickly and guided her to the door for another wonderful night of dinner, conversation and more.

Diane was alone in Harry's apartment. He was out getting dinner- what kind she did not know. It was nice to be here actually; in Harry's habitat, so to speak. The gentle masculine influence had a calming effect on her. It smelled nice too; of sandalwood and some strange scent like lavender. She inhaled deeply and lay flat on his floor by the warm fire.

The cat wandered over to her, turned around curling it's tail and sat next to her feet. It rubbed it's furry neck against her sock covered toes and then started cleaning itself. She smiled slightly at the feeling and rolled over.

Why was she not fighting this relationship with all she had? It was certainly not what she wanted; what she had with Bobby, a loving rapport and 'long-walks-on-the-beach' kind of thing. With Harry it was 'two-complete-opposites-who-have-learned-to-like-each-other-with-some-hot -sex-thrown-in.' But she couldn't deny that she felt what she had with Bobby. She would give anything to ensure his happiness and God forbid if anything happened to him.

She found that when she was away from him (which hadn't been that often as of late, if the truth be known) she thought about him; wondered what he was doing and if he was hot or too cold or wanted something to eat. She felt so drawn to him and was mildly ashamed to admit that when she had thought Amanda was his ex-lover she was burned with a huge fit of jealousy.

And the things Harry said to her, oh lord, things like 'what is your absolute most favorite thing to eat,' he didn't realize that it made her burn. Not with lust or love or anything that was described in those corny romance books, but with something deeper. To think that this man cared for her gave her the most profound pleasure and the most deep sense of fulfilment.

The keys jingling urged her up off the floor and to the table. Diane thought she could smell something like Chinese food through the door and gave a silent cry of thanks. She loved Chinese food but she loved Harry even more.

"Oh, that was yummy."

"'Yummy?' Diane, you're starting to sound as if you're nervous and just want to please."

"Truth to tell Harry, I am."

He looked down at his hands for a moment so she would not see his uncertain expression.

"Really? Why is that?"

When he looked up at her again, his face looked cool and assured. When he saw her look, however, he immediately regretted that he had done that. His former personality had hardly gone well with Diane.

"I just- well"

"Well?"

She laughed a little into her plate. He had an impulse to tip her head up so she would look at him without having the chance to pull away. He didn't however, do that. He left Diane up to her own devices.

"After Bobby,"

Harry didn't mean to shift positions when she said his name. It was just an unfortunate coincidence. What it did, regardless, was make her have the predisposed notion that he didn't want to talk about him. Well, he didn't, but Diane shouldn't know that, and that wasn't his reaction.

"Harry, I don't want you to think that I spend all of my hours thinking about Bobby. I don't. I do, however, on occasion, find myself...not, comparing, oh what's the word I'm looking for?"

"Anamnesis," Harry finished quietly for her.

"No. Well, yes, but I can't use it in this sentence. I recall some things. I can't help it. I'm human. And I'm off track."

She smiled to try and kill the tension. It really didn't work. Her smile faded.

"Anyway, after Bobby I was left to my self. It was one of the loneliest times of my life, and I almost lost myself again. Things were hard and Jill with Don... actually, you know how it is with a partner. But it's times like those when you know, you know, that life was throwing you shit that you just had to deal with. Do you have any idea how long it took for me to figure that out Harry? I suppose you do. But you still have trouble talking about Rossy. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that-"

"No Diane. You were right to. I don't tell you everything you want to know. I realize that. But you do want to know, don't you Diane?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. Why do you hide so much from me?"

"Because...because, believe it or not Russell, I am terrified."

He stopped and she started at him, not quite sure how to react to his last statement.

"Terrified?"

"Yes. I'm not who I say I am. I have the cool, calm sexy reserve of 'Harry Denby; Drunk with a vocabulary' That's not me; that's not even my father, who, I could for all the world, blame for the majority of my problems. But I don't. Did you even know that my father was the first drunk in the family? I doubt it. I grew up with hatred, but I really didn't let it affect me. I let myself affect my own damn self. And I was not my own worst enemy. Oh no, I was my own personal hero; I had a witty repartee for everything anyone could throw at me, which you experienced first hand. I had a jingle that I could pitch at anyone and I made it so damn convincing that I could have people chanting it, or spewing it like a fucking minister. Oh yes, I was Harry Denby, the cop with a difference."

Harry was lost in himself now, not even realize that he had an audience.

"Going to collage was probably what tied the package. Sex, booze, and studies. I pissed off my own teachers on a daily basis. They just hate it when the student becomes the teacher. Rossy was the cute little blonde in my history class. I majored in psychology, did you know that? I was planning on being some...high paid fuck who counselled rich men on how to get over their homosexual tendencies. Rossy, however, hated the idea. So I dropped out. Two credits shy. She wanted a real good boy to take home to daddy; a street cop. But she wasn't a good little girl, oh no, the first 3 abortions convinced me of that. When I found out and threatened to tell her father, who was throwing her money by the pound, she divorced me 'quicker then my head could spin.' Got everything. Everything. Now, I'm stuck in a job I don't want with some prick for a partner. But his wife tells me I should go talk to this girl she knows who's just gotten her degree in psychology. Amanda Cohen. God, if it weren't for her putting up with my bitterness I don't know what I would have done. I got upped to the Narc tasks force, and boom batta boom bang bang; dirty cops. Suddenly, Don. I don't care to get into this shit; it drags worse than I do. But you, you Diane, with your bouncy chestnut curls and unstable past. You made me ache, for Christ sake, you still do."

Diane was silent.

He moved silently to bed, a cat stalking its mouse. He was tired beyond belief and he knew that he did not always feel this...mollified. He studied her sleeping form gracefully in the stillness, and he knew without a doubt that this be his destiny.

She stirred, subconsciously aware of his probing observation. He flicked a grin that he quickly dismissed, cognizant of the fact that he was the only waking thing in the apartment to see his actions. Leaning over the mattress to her still, steady shape, he grasped her delicate hand in his own, and brought it to his lips.

"Diane," he breathed, letting life and air out of his lips.

The lady's only reply was one of a sleepy mumble. He chuckled a bit, then afraid to cause her to stir, brought the hand back down to the bed, placing at her chest with her other one. She was a sleeping beauty in a coffin. And she would awake only at his kiss.

He climbed into bed alongside her. She rolled over to face him even in slumber, her instincts for love and touch stronger than most anything. In the pale moonlight, he could see her still. And in one moment, her eyes opened.

"Love." Diane's only words.

He reached his hand to her face and cupped it gently. It probed a soft moan from her lips, and she tipped her head to the side to kiss his hand.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Love me."

Harry let his breath out with a grin. Thank God! He was craving her; craving her body and soul. He couldn't pass much time without being joined with her. It was not easy being away from her. The thought was still shocking and he shuddered to himself again; Harry Denby was In Love!

"Harry? What is it?"

"Nothing. It was nothing Diane. I was just thinking."

She nodded, and reached for him. He complied with her soft arms, and slipped into her embrace. He slipped out of his pants before he did so, and felt a flush over his cheeks even though he could barely see his hand in front of his face. Ahh, how tedious. How old embarrassment got.

Harry nuzzled her face, feeling warm butterflies in his stomach. He felt closer to Diane now after his soul-bearing experiment. Lovely, lovely. He kissed her lips softly, and she yielded to him. Another tremor ran through Harry. He felt crucified and godly here, amongst one of the great spirits, Diane, goddess of the hunt and the moon.

She slipped softly out of her nightie, and he held her gently, like a porcelain doll. He ran his thumbs up and down her sides, and felt the gooseflesh rise. What a lovely night this was going to be...