Dance With Me
AUTHOR: Lucky.
DISCLAIMER: Except for the creations of the author, all characters, characterizations, situations, and locations described in this unsolicited and not-for-profit work of fiction are the property of ABC Television, Capitol Cities, Inc., Steven Bochco Productions, the many talented people who created the world of NYPD Blue, and the actors who have made that world such a lively place. The author would also like to extend her personal gratitude to Mr. Scott Cohen for his light, his vitality, his inspiration, and for being such a compelling muse. Thank you, sir.
FEEDBACK: To Lucky
What!? "What?"
"Matthew Grayling." He untucked his shirt and pulled at the waistband of his jeans, revealing an elastic cloth belt, and flipped a flat pouch up that had been laying against his thigh. He opened the pouch and took out something that looked like a passport. With a flip of his wrist, he tossed it onto the couch beside her.
Watching him warily, she picked up the wallet and opened it. A little black and white picture of him lay in the right hand corner of a laminated piece of paper, stamped with the seal of the United States Department of Defense. She stared at the piece of identification, then up at Harry's... or whoever he was now... face, her mind folding like a paper mobius as she tried to reconcile the image of the man she loved with the stranger she'd just met.
This stranger named Matthew Grayling. Agent Matthew Grayling.
Detective Harry Denby.
Convulsively, she threw the wallet away, releasing it as if it had burned her and covering her face, trying to will the piece of paper and plastic and leather out of existence. She held herself that way in silence for what felt like forever. Finally, his voice slid through the room, breaking quietly as it left his body.
"Please say something."
Posey could only manage a whisper, muffled behind her hands. "Why did you do this?"
"Because I was ordered to."
"By who?"
"I can't give you an exact name. I technically can't even tell you that it was the FBI, but I think it would have become apparent eventually."
Posey lifted her head out of her hands to look at him. "And... and your name..?"
"My name is Matthew Grayling." He came up out of the chair and crossed the room carefully, kneeling in front of her as he spoke. "My name is Matthew Grayling. I'm an agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation, New York Offices. I was born in 1964 in Sioux City, Iowa to Daniel and Irene Grayling. I have two older brothers, Keith and Peter, and one younger sister, Regine. My parents moved to New York when I was six and enrolled me in an all- male Jesuit academy. When I graduated in 1982, I was accepted on a full scholarship to Notre Dame where I double-majored in psychology and logic. My entire life was spent in pursuit of becoming a federal agent, and when I graduated Magna Cum Laude from Notre Dame, I was accepted into the FBI Academy immediately. I'm not allowed to tell you why or how I came to be Harry Denby and a New York police officer, but Harry Denby spent two years on beat in the Bronx and was promoted to Detective, where he's served as a Narcotics Task Force officer for the last four years. Everything you've been told about Harry Denby is probably true.
"But I'm not Harry Denby."
Posey let that settle in, still not quite wanting to believe it. Harry... Matthew... turned around and picked up his i.d. wallet again, taking her trembling hand and pressing the bit of warm leather into her palm.
"My name is Matthew," he whispered.
With the hand he wasn't holding, she reached out, touching his face carefully. He held perfectly still, looking into her eyes, letting her explore the new person he'd suddenly become to her. He was, in every way that she could see, still her Harry, from the way the light glanced warm and amber off his raven hair, to the sparks of gold and streaks of sky in his water-green eyes. The balance of his face, at once delicate and strong. A childlike flit of long, dark lashes beneath the empire of his brow. The soft curve of a mouth she knew by touch. All of it familiar, understood, memorized. This was the man she loved. But something made it all new again. A hint of flush, a little light. This life...
The person was on the outside now.
"Matthew."
At the sound of his name, he drew a sharp breath, his fingers closing quickly around her wrist. His mouth fell open as he gazed up at her, and she felt him start to tremble.
"Again."
"Matthew."
For many years, it's been said that the most commonly heard word in any person's life is that person's name. That the particular set of sounds that make up that one special word is linked to every part of their mind, every part of their being. Hearing one's name reminds everything in him of who he is and why. It was the only explanation Posey could come up with for what he did when she said his name.
He reached up, wrapping his arms around her waist and dragging her down into his lap. His whole body was lit up, ringing with electricity that radiated into her. As he begged her to say his name again and again, she realized that he must have heard it maybe a handful of times in the last six years and she vowed right there to make it up to him. She whispered it into his ear so he could feel the way it slid down his skin, she pressed it into his kiss so he could taste it in her mouth, she cradled his ear to her breast so he could feel her body vibrate around it. She murmured his name, spoke it, cried it out to him, feeling him burn and shudder in her arms. This was still him. She could feel it in his body and hear it in the sound of his voice. This was still the man she loved.
So she told him.
"I love you, Matthew."
He squeezed her so tight she could barely keep her breath, making a little squeak against her shirt, then breaking into a deep brook of bubbling laughter that rocked his shoulders and cradled her heart. Truly, she'd heard him laugh before, but never quite like this. An infectious, addictive laugh. Posey found herself chuckling with him, then giggling madly, curling her arms around his neck and singing his harmony.
He lifted his head with a broad, brimming smile. "Anything. I will get you absolutely anything you want." He planted a happy, smacking kiss on her mouth. "Anything."
She returned his kiss before speaking. "Anything?"
"Anything."
"Get naked."
"Immediately." He pressed her back with his kiss, setting her out of his lap and up against the couch. Then he fairly leapt to his feet and stripped, muttering to himself the whole time. "Get naked... we are all over that..." Posey giggled and watched him, and within a few seconds he stood before her, a study on the beauty of human engineering with all gears in motion. His eyes snapped as he grinned down at her. "What's next?"
Posey came up on her knees and wobbled over to him, sliding her body along his as she slowly took her feet.
Taking quick breaths, he murmured, "Cotton and flannel and fleece."
She tossed him a wink. "Oh, my." She walked around him slowly, taking him in, putting her hands anywhere that pleased her, running her mouth across the broad of his back, raking her nails gently over his backside, enjoying the way her touch made him squirm and sigh and shudder. She rounded him on the other side and looked up into his fluttering eyes, stroking the jet black fur on his belly. He slid a hand into her hair, cupping her head as he kissed her, while her hand drifted down to his navel.
In the spaces between kisses, he spoke in a playfully wary murmur. "Where are you headed with that hand?"
Posey could only giggle into his mouth and continue. She'd been with men before, certainly seen them before, but they never seemed to hold still long enough for her to... touch them. Tonight, it seemed, was going to be her night for new experiences. Her fingers met a coarse mat of hair and he stopped breathing entirely, stifling tiny, excited sounds against her mouth. Finally, she stroked her fingertips over his masculinity, pleasantly surprised at what she encountered. The feel was fascinating, like layers of satin wound around a length of warm steel, soft, broad and slick at the tip.
His knees buckled, forcing him to replant his feet. He tore his mouth away from hers, unable to hold his kiss and keep his breath at the same time, blowing whispering little moans into her hair as she explored him. She slipped her fingers around him, her fingertips not quite meeting her palm, her hand not quite able to span his full length. As she ran her thumb over the pliable flesh at the head of his sex, he let out a ragged groan and jumped a little in her hand.
"Oh, my god... you... You have to..." He shivered, holding on to her for balance.
She tilted her head up against his jaw, taking gentle bites at his throat as she touched him. He snapped against her palm again, and this time she couldn't hold back her giggle, hearing his smile as he panted into her ear.
"Don't laugh at me," he chided, nipping at her.
"I can't help it," she giggled. "It's cute." She looked up into his face as she spoke.
He arched a brow at her. "Cute?" His tongue slicked over his mouth and his eyes fluttered as her thumb circled again. "Sure you don't mean 'sexy' or 'erotic' or something powerful soun..." His words trailed off in a long, round noise as her palm slicked and swirled around the head of his desire.
"Damn cute," she corrected herself, reveling in his bliss.
He moved as if he were being blown about by his own sensations, then curled his fingers around her wrist, drawing her hand away from him with insistent whispers.
"Stop... Stop, stop, stop."
"Why?" she asked, feigning innocence, running her fingernails lightly up his tummy and over his ribs.
He pulled at her hand again, panting in ragged giggles, setting and re-setting his feet as he tried to clear his head. "Because... because I can either sit down, or I can fall down, but I've only got thirty more seconds of upright left."
Posey grinned coyly and shrugged off her robe. "God, I hope not." He eyed her playfully, watching as she tossed her robe over the leather couch and pushed him down onto it.
He took a second to cuddle into the soft fleece and hugging cushion, then begged the question, "Why?"
"So you don't stick to the leather." She crossed the room and hit the lightswitch, then disappeared into the darkness beyond the kitchen. He dropped his head back on the couch and called her name in a lonely howl, pattering his feet on the floor until she returned. In her hand, she held a pillar candle and a book of matches. She'd changed her pajamas and tee into a white, oversized man's oxford, and he couldn't help but groan aloud. She flashed him a grin and set the candle on the little endtable beside the couch, carefully lighting it and returning to stand in front of him.
He smiled for a second, holding his tongue in his teeth, then lifted his hands to her with a whisper.
"Come here."
She straddled his thighs, falling into his arms and his kiss, feeling his hands glide over her body through the thin weave of the shirt. Without another word, he brought his hands between them, kissing her as he made quick work of the row of buttons. She stroked his face, smiling against his lips, drawing a sharp little gasp as he brushed the shirt aside and gathered her breasts in his hands.
He broke the kiss to push the garment from her shoulders, his eyes following his hands from her throat to her hips. "Oh, baby," he breathed. "You are so beautiful." He wriggled a little, pulling her forward in his lap, gazing into her eyes. "Make love to me... love me."
It took a little maneuvering, and the smooshy couch put up a struggle, making them both giggle as Posey tried to give him helpful suggestions as how not to throw her off balance.
"Could you put your hands down on the couch, please?" she fussed, dropping to the left for the third time.
He complied, grinning. "You know, I didn't buy the big mushy couch. I don't see where this is my fault."
"Matthew..." she whined, just about to tell him to cork it when his arms came up again and wound tight around her. He buried his face against her throat and groaned blissfully.
"I'm just never gonna get tired of hearing you say my name." She smiled against his brow and tickled the little hairs at the nape of his neck, feeling his shivers run through her whole body. He stilled for a moment, then lifted his head with a mischievous little glint in his eyes. "I've got an idea. Stand up."
"Excuse me?"
He nodded, lowering his brows in an 'everything is under control, now' expression. "Just for a second. Come on, stand up." She did as he asked, watching him warily. "Turn around."
"What?"
He repeated himself slowly and meaningfully, wearing just about the biggest smile she'd ever seen on him. "Turn... around..." Still she hesitated, making a quarter turn while she stared at him. He lifted his hand and drew a little circle in the air, nodding. Finally, she'd turned completely away from him.
"Now what?"
He was silent for a second, then leaned forward with a little moan, cupping her backside in his hands and pressing a kiss into the soft flesh. "This... this is cute."
She twisted around to look at him with a smile. "I'm glad you like it. Is this the only reason I'm standing?"
He pushed himself back against the couch, scooting out of his slouch. "You're not standing for any reason at all anymore." He pulled at her hips, directing her back down into his lap. As soon as she was there, his reason for turning her around was immediately apparent and pressed firmly into the flesh of her rump.
She squirmed a little. "I don't think I can do this. I want to be able to see you."
He gathered her hair away from her neck and replied, his whisper ruffling like silk over her skin. "Your eyes will be closed the whole time, baby. Believe me."
At the soft touch of his mouth, her insides coiled like a spring and she gasped, trying to pull forward and away from him.
He slipped his arms around her waist, holding her fast. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no..." The tickle of his mouth was maddening and she twitched, breathing faster with every word. "Let me ask you a question, dear heart..." His tongue flicked over her ear and her breath caught again, forcing her back up into an arch. "In your estimation, am I someone who... talks during sex?"
She managed to push out a shaky whisper. "No."
"Hm... and in your past experience with me, you thought I was..."
"Damn good."
He chuckled, the sound falling through her skin and into her mind like raindrops. "Thank you, but that's not the answer I was looking for."
It clicked. "Harry Denby."
"And now..?" He cupped her breasts, tracing little circles around her nipples until she pressed up into his hands, begging to be touched more intimately. Her body began moving on instinct, knowing what needed to be done, wanting to be one with him, and wanting it right now.
"You're not Harry... you never were... It was always you."
He cooed into her ear, purring softly. "Good girl." His fingers brushed over her nipples until she was sighing and trembling in his arms. She rolled in his lap, feeling lost and helpless, like an empty little pocket waiting for him.
"Make love to me," she hissed, her tongue darting out to caress the air as she panted. "Please, Matthew..."
He groaned into her shoulder and drew an arm from around her, snaking his hand into the little bit of space between them and offering himself up into her body.
As she sank down around him, it was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. This man, who she already knew by touch, by the texture of his skin, his very scent, was indeed an entirely unique experience. He rocked her slowly in his arms, his sighs and moans coming like the soft, fluffy snowflakes that had begun to fall outside her window. She let her head drop back onto his shoulder, moving like water, running her hands over his arms and enjoying the ride, even as she could hear the approaching rapids in the distance.
"You're so warm," he whispered, his deep breath fluttering over her neck as he sighed. "You smell so good... God, I love you so much."
She wanted to tell him, the words burned inside her, but she couldn't breathe enough to get them out anymore. She lifted her arm up and sank her hand into his hair, then ran her fingertips over his face, feeling him turn to scatter kisses over her hand. He was beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful. His body, his voice, his touch. The act, the air, the label, the name didn't matter at all anymore. It was him. He held her, he called her name, he lit her soul with indelible color, like he always had. Like he always would.
He loved her.
The bright tumult inside her caught her completely off guard, moving her body in warm, compelling waves, bearing her down against the being inside her again and again. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and groaned, panting in hard, hot breaths down her back, clinging to her as she trembled and rocked. She couldn't have stopped if she wanted to, given over completely to what he could do, how he felt, what he was. The room, the city, the world ceased to be, and there was just her, in her universe within. And she knew... she knew... she would never be alone there again.
This tiny sound, this little bit, and light broke over her, sparkling like dawn on the ocean. She cried his name. His name. His soul. In that moment, his breathing stopped and she could feel his heart race and pound against her back, feel his sex pulse and fill her completely.
And he screamed.
They stayed there in the echoing silence, breathing as one, slowing in tandem as they drifted through the warm, pretty cloud that enveloped them. Through measures of this quiet music, Posey came back to herself, fluttering her eyes a little as she opened them. He held her as close as he could get her, still inside her body, breathing in uneven tremors against her shoulder. A single drop of water... just one... fell onto her skin.
"Matthew..." Posey moved a little, wanting to turn and put her arms around him.
He nearly crushed her in his arms. "No," he demanded in a gruff little bark. Taking a deep breath and letting up on her a little, he started again. "No, please. Just... stay with me." He pressed his mouth against the crook of her neck and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Just for a little while." He fanned out his hands, covering as much of her body as he could, as if he could touch all of her at once.
She sighed and let her eyes fall shut again, leaning back into his chest, warmed completely by his body. As she relaxed into his embrace, he whispered again.
"Stay with me."
She smiled a little and slid her hand up against his jaw.
"I will, Matthew... I will."
Continued in Part 5.
