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She's turned on.
At another time or place, she'd welcome this - the slickness between her legs, the fantasies flitting through her thoughts, the increasing need for release.
But it's hour 4 into an overnight stakeout, she can't exactly just sneak off to take care of things, and, of course, he's here.
This is all his fault, really.
If he hadn't said, "So this thing this girl asked for in the bedroom last week - weird or sexy?" If he hadn't gone into completely unnecessary, totally inappropriate, absurdly delicious detail. If he hadn't mentioned handcuffs and blindfolds and dirty talk and unf , tongue on-
Yeah. It's been way too long since Amy's last had sex (sue her, she's career-oriented and not interested in one night stands) for her not to have been affected by that.
He's asleep now, and she's meant to be keeping an eye on the warehouse across the street, but all she can think about is unbuttoning her slacks, slipping a hand past the waistband of her underwear, and rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. (Or, alternatively: ditching this stakeout altogether, driving straight home, and letting the sweet buzz of her favorite vibrator lead her to full body bliss.)
She blows out a frustrated breath and shifts in her seat. Maybe if she just crosses her legs and leans over, she can- Yeah, not good enough.
Sneaking one last glance at the abandoned building and her sleeping partner, she decides: fuck it, she'll be quiet.
She grabs her extra jacket from the backseat and drapes it over her lap - so Jake won't see anything if he does happen to wake up and since she can pretend she just got cold and needed a blanket.
Biting her lower lip in anticipation, she slowly unbuttons her pants and lowers the zipper. With bated breath, she slips a hand between the black cotton, dips past her curls to gather some of the wetness there, and settles a finger on her clit.
She starts off slow, rubbing up and down in broad strokes. Gradually, she speeds up and hones in on that one spot that always gets her close.
She's still looking straight at the warehouse (God forbid she'd have to explain to Captain Holt she missed their perp because she was masturbating), but wild images are flashing through her head.
Hands tied. Legs nudged open. Neck bitten. Breasts fondled. Inner thighs kissed. Clit sucked.
A low moan escapes the back of her throat then, and she realizes she's been breathing too hard, too loud. With her cheeks flushed and heart pounding, her eyes flit to the detective beside her.
Still asleep. Thank goodness.
She pauses until her breathing's under control, but she's far too aroused to stop here.
Slowly, she resumes her ministrations: light vertical strokes progressing to firmer loops. It really doesn't take her too long to get back to where she was, although this time, the images in her head are different, more vivid.
It's not unusual for her thoughts to drift to specific people while she gets off, but usually it's celebrities she imagines (and occasionally, regrettably, ex-lovers). It's bizarre - though, if she were to be completely honest, not entirely new and also God, so hot - for her now to be thinking of him.
Jake with his wrists cuffed to a bed frame. Jake with his pupils blown and his skin flushed and his chest heaving. Jake moaning beneath her as she rides him. Jake bucking his hips upward as he-
"Jake."
Shit.
Her frantic movements stop immediately, and she waits, praying to all the saints she knows that her partner somehow did not hear any of that.
In the passenger seat, Jake swallows thickly before croaking out in a hoarse voice, "Oh God."
Amy's stomach drops, and her face (really, her entire body) feels like it's on fire. "Y-you're awake?!"
His eyes are wide, but she's trying (and failing miserably) to look anywhere other than at him. "You said my name!"
"You were supposed to be asleep!"
"Were you just TOUCHING YOURSELF?"
She huffs, shifting the jacket on her lap and discreetly wiping her fingers on her pants. "Go to sleep, Jake."
He gestures wildly around the car, still alarmed and worked up on so many levels. "THE WINDOWS ARE FOGGED UP. YOU'RE STILL PANTING. IT SMELLS LIKE YOU."
Her cheeks burn brighter, and she yells the first thing she noticed about him in the last few minutes. "YOUR PANTS ARE TENTED."
He splutters as heat rises up his neck. "I- You were just- You can't expect me not to- Do you realize the noises you were- And it was all just so- Then you said MY NAME? Fuck, Amy. I-"
She silences him then by leaning over the space between their seats, grabbing hold of his jacket, and crashing her lips to his.
It takes him half a moment to process what's going on, but he shifts, turning his body, so he can snake an arm around her and run a hand along her back. He matches her ferocity, parting her lips with his tongue and deepening the kiss, soliciting a moan not unlike the one that had woken him up earlier.
He pulls away at some point, to breathe and also to ask between heavy breaths, "So earlier, were you really- was that- about me?"
She rolls her eyes, frustrated she has to spell this out for him. "Yes."
His eyebrows shoot up a bit then his lips morph into a smirk. "So you did find all that sexy! Admit that you lied when you said handcuffs were weird!"
"Jake."
"Admit it, Amy, you-"
"Jake." With one hand, she pushes his shoulder against his seat and uses this as leverage in climbing onto his lap. He quickly shuts up and places a hand on her hip to guide her.
The car is quiet for a moment as they both regard their position: face to face - closer than they've ever been before, his arms looped around her waist, her hands on his chest, his growing erection hard against her thigh.
She leans down and captures his lips with hers again. Just like that, they're back where they left off.
He nips at her lip, and she responds in kind, rolling her hips to gain some of the friction she's been craving all night. He groans at the contact and untucks her shirt from her pants. Without breaking off the kiss, he lets his hands glide across the smooth skin of her sides and back. She lets out a sigh when he grazes a thumb along the underside of her breast, and she starts to grind against his cock. A familiar pressure coils within her, but there's just enough layers between them to leave her orgasm out of reach. She rocks against him harder, faster in attempt to push herself over the edge.
It's when he tears himself away from her lips to press kisses against her collarbone that he sees it: the blur of movement across the street.
He gasps. "Holy shit, Amy! Our perp!"
It's like a bucket of ice water's been poured over her head, and she's grabbing her gun and jumping out of the car the next second. For now, it doesn't matter that her clothes are rumpled and her hair's an unruly mess and she's still soaked - they've got a perp to arrest.
She chases him down the street and round the corner, and Jake trails behind them awkwardly, still out of breath and packing a boner. They catch the guy, of course, because Amy's a formidable beast - apparently more so when she's hot and bothered and infuriated over being interrupted 0.3 seconds before coming.
Back at the precinct, Jake's never been so happy to see Lohank and the rest of the night crew. He doesn't even want to imagine what Holt - or worse, Charles - would say if he saw them in their current state. (That is: Amy still livid, with her shirt haphazardly tucked back into her slacks and her hair falling out of its usual ponytail, as she throws their perp in holding; Himself making a beeline for his desk to start on paperwork and to hide his embarrassingly obvious hard-on.)
They're still undeniably turned on as they work through processing their perp, but the harsh fluorescent lighting of the bullpen and the sheer normalcy of being at their shared workstation is jarring. They both work in silence until Amy's done with her half of the filing, mumbling goodbye, and rushing out.
When she finally gets home, she's exhausted but still so, so horny. It's well past midnight at this point, but considering her pressing needs, with the memories of earlier still burning in her head and on every bit of skin Jake had touched - sleep can wait.
She speeds through her nighttime routine, postponing her shower so she can jump straight to getting cozy in bed with her fully charged vibe and a bottle of lube.
The moan she makes when the rumbling hits the crease of her thigh is borderline pornographic. A shudder runs through her, and she palms her breast with her free hand. It's with a ridiculous amount of self control that she traces her vibrator just around the edge of her outer lips, deliberately avoiding the areas screaming for attention. As her eyes slip shut, she imagines it's Jake teasing her, dragging his tongue everywhere except where she needs it most.
When she finally moves her vibrator to her clit, the wave of pleasure has her toes curling and her hips canting upward. She mewls and pants as she grinds against the smooth silicone, spurred on by the idea of having Jake's warm weight above her, with his lips working wonders on her neck and bare chest.
She's writhing and swearing under her breath, just on the verge of tipping over, when a knock at her front door breaks her out of her reverie - effectively chasing her impending orgasm away. She groans loudly, frustrated over what has apparently become a recurring theme of the night, but gets up and hastily throws on a random t-shirt and shorts.
She stomps over to the door, not even stopping to check her reflection in the mirror or to look through the peephole, then yanks it open forcefully. "What?! Oh-"
On the other side of the threshold, her partner's looking considerably taken aback, his eyes wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He had practiced a speech on the way over, beginning with: "I know it's late, I'm sorry for waking you up," but the words die on his lips when he sees her flushed face and her disheveled hair and her hardened nipples peaking through her inside-out shirt. It doesn't take long for him - and his nether regions - to figure out that he had interrupted another in-bed activity.
"Jake?"
She's still looking at him expectedly, so he clears his throat and trudges on. "Hey, Amy, uh- I just wanted to say sorry for- I mean, at the precinct, that was- uh, awkward, and I just wanted to make sure we were, uhm-" His flustered rambling comes to a halt when he spots the object in her hand. "Is- is that a vibrator?"
Her heart stutters in her chest, and she shoves the toy behind her back. "I- This isn't-"
"I should go." He hooks his thumbs in his pockets and looks away, a blush creeping up his cheeks. "You're in the middle of something. I should go."
Despite his words, he remains rooted in his spot. A moment passes where neither of them do or say anything, but eventually the build up of lust from the last few hours (or perhaps the feelings she may or may not have been harboring for him since their ridiculous date weeks ago) has her pulling him into her apartment and kissing him against the door. This time, he responds immediately, enveloping his arms around her and bringing her as close to him as possible.
At some point, her vibrator slips out of her hand and hits the ground with a clunk, and Jake pulls away to see where the noise came from. He grins cheekily and looks back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Not a vibrator, huh?"
She rolls her eyes and brings him back in for another searing kiss. "Shut up, Peralta."
He smiles against her lips then pulls away again, moving to suck lightly and nip at her neck. Her breath hitches, and she lets her head fall back to give him more access.
A part of her wants him to keep lavishing her collarbone with kisses forever, but the liquid heat between her legs urges her to move things along. She shoves his jacket off his shoulders and starts unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling slightly.
He looks at her seriously then, biting his lower lip in a mix of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?"
She nods, pushing the plaid away and letting it drop on the floor before undoing his belt. She palms his erection through his pants, smirking at the hiss he makes. "You got a gun in your pocket, detective, or are you just happy to see me?"
He blows out a breath and laughs then retaliates by swiftly removing her shirt and tracing circles around one of her breasts. With his free hand, he dips into her shorts and feels the slickness pooling between her legs. His eyes darken, and he swipes his thumb along her clit. "God, you're so wet."
Her knees nearly buckle when he runs his forefinger along her slit and teases her entrance. She gasps, "Bedroom."
They stumble across her apartment, taking way more time than necessary because they can't keep their hands or lips off each other. His pants come off at some point, and she delays them further by reaching down his boxers and stroking him lightly.
When they finally get to her room, she falls backward on her bed, and he crawls over her to press warm, wet kisses from her chest to underneath her belly button. She shudders every time his lips make contact with her skin, and her arousal grows the further down her body he moves.
He peels her shorts off and gently parts her legs with his hands. They lock eyes for a second before he plants a kiss just above her pubic bone then glides his tongue along her wet folds.
Amy's not sure if she's pleased or infuriated that Jake's fulfilling one of her fantasies from earlier, skimming his tongue agonizingly slowly while his thumbs lightly brush her inner thighs. Whining, she tangles her fingers through his hair and tugs to redirect his actions. He chuckles, and the vibrations travel through her flesh, making her cheeks burn a smidge darker.
Finally, he sucks her clit in his mouth and pushes a finger then another inside her. She moans and grips at the linen sheets below, gasping variations of “Jake, yes, there- ” as he loops his tongue in circles around her nub and curls his fingers within her intimate heat.
He quickens his efforts when her breathing becomes ragged, when the sighs of “That feels so fucking good -” and “Don’t you dare stop, Peralta -” devolve into incoherent babbling. Soon, she’s coming apart beneath him, clenching around his digits as pleasure ripples through her. It’s all the more intense because of how long she had been denied release all night.
The mattress shifts as Jake moves to settle beside her, and in her blissed out state, Amy vaguely registers him sucking his fingers clean. Despite what just transpired between them, seeing (and hearing) this makes her blush from head to toe.
Jake grins when he realizes she's watching him then leans down to kiss her softly. She's still somewhat hypersensitive but oh so acutely aware of his warm shaft pressing against her hip. Still tangling her tongue with his, she reaches down, rubs her wet slit, then wraps her fingers around him. He moans against her lips as she pumps her fist up and down, and he has to break the kiss entirely when she circles her thumb over the head of his cock. Panting, he rasps, "Condom?"
She kisses him on the lips then again below his jaw line before whispering, "Bedside table, second drawer down."
He nods and rolls over to reach for the right compartment. Something in the drawer makes him still, and Amy realizes, too late, that she just directed him to her stash of sex toys. Her heart skips a beat, and she’s about to stammer out an explanation, when he laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “Oh, Santiago. You beautiful, kinky genius.”
She can practically hear his smirk, and she rolls her eyes when she comes up next to him and sees what he’d been distracted by. She kisses his neck then takes the leather handcuffs out of his hands. "We can use those next time. For now..." Her voice trails off as she picks a packet out of the drawer and shoves him back down on the bed.
His expression shifts to some combination of awe and want when she straddles his hips, rips the wrapper open, and rolls the condom over him. "You really sure about this, Ames?"
She hums and slowly lowers herself onto him, waiting as he stretches her, tests her limits in the best way possible. Gradually, she begins riding him, adjusting her angle and speed so he's hitting her exactly where and how she needs him to.
He's grunting and groaning as he thrusts up to meet her, and his chest is flushed and glistening beneath her hands. It's all much, much hotter than she ever imagined it could be, and even hotter when he moves his hand between them and starts to rub her clit quickly. “Fuck, I’m so close- ” she cries, throwing her head back in ecstasy as heat surges through her body in waves.
It doesn't take too long for her to come apart again, and the rhythmic contractions of her inner walls along with her stream of profanities has him finishing soon after, bucking his hips erratically and moaning her name.
She collapses beside him a few moments later, and they take a bit to catch their breaths.
“Wow,” Jake gasps, turning his head to look at her.
She looks back and beams at him, flushed but happy. “I know.”
He presses a kiss to her temple, and she shifts to rest her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. They lie quietly for a while, just listening to each other breathe and letting the sweat cool on their skin.
Later, he clears his throat but continues playing with her hair. “So, what was that you were saying about next time?”
She chuckles and kisses the corner of his lips before settling her head back down on his chest. “Next time, I cuff you to the bed.” The suggestiveness of her statement is undercut by the sleepy quality of her voice and the yawn that follows it.
He laughs. “Why can’t I cuff you to the bed?”
“Well, you could. But- oh.” She sits up, suddenly awake, and turns to face him. “Wait, if we did that, would it be too similar to- I mean, you wouldn’t compare me to that girl from last week, would you?”
He sits up too, and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. It takes a second for him to piece together what she’s talking about, and when it does dawn on him, his expression morphs into a sheepish grin. “About that… Uhm. There might not have been a girl last week. I sort of- uh- made all of that up because I thought it would rile you up.”
She stares for a moment, before a grin of her own blossoms across her face. "You made a girl up to try and turn me on, Peralta?”
He splutters. “I didn’t totally make her up, we went on a couple of dates a year ago and- okay, I panicked and I totally made her up!”
Her mouth falls open a bit, and she shakes her head. “You’re so ridiculous!”
“Oh, I’m ridiculous? It worked! ”
“Well, you’re so unprofessional, trying to turn your partner on during a stakeout!”
“You’re the one who had your hand down your pants!”
“You tripped over the Miranda rights three times because you were so hot and bothered!”
“You were so hot and bothered, you rough-handled our perp!”
She practically pounces on him then, tackling him against the bed and holding his shoulders down. “I guess now you know, Peralta,” she purrs before whispering, “I can take it rough.”
He chuckles lowly, and the sound travels directly to her core. “Is it next time already?”
Flashing him a devilish smirk, she reaches for her leather cuffs.
Sleep can definitely wait.