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“You know,” says Denise, opening the door to her hotel room, “It’s not very proper of you to come knocking at a lady’s door after dark.”
Coop grins and brandishes a folder at her. “I thought your sense of professionalism would demand I bring these to you with as little drag time as possible.”
“My professionalism, sure.” She’s been in this Clue scenario with him before. Bryson and Cooper, in a hotel room after midnight. She’s got a decent idea what he’s after, but that suits her just fine.
“Can I come in?”
She waves him through the door with a nod, turns her back to him, and walks back over to the end table. She sets the folder down next to her holster and clicks the clasp of her bracelet open, dropping it down next to her necklace, to the untouched ashtray.
Her blazer is hanging up by the door, its partner hanger waiting for her skirt to be bundled up for the hotel dry cleaning.
“Did you just get in?”
“Something like that,” she says easily, sitting on the edge of the bed. “No rest for the wicked.”
Cooper’s eyes, long off on their races following her around the room, flit down to her pumps. For all the wonderful things about the man, he’s not necessarily patient, even if he thinks it doesn’t show .
Denise smiles. “Want to give me a hand?”
Ever accommodating, Coop sinks down to a knee next to her. Denise lifts an ankle delicately, expectantly, and hms in appreciation as he slips the shoe off of her foot.
It’s Dale, so of course he gives it a quick once-over, almost certainly judging their practicality. Precious.
And a little pushy, when he’s not getting what he wants. A warm hand wraps around the back of her calf, still encased in better-than-drugstore (if not quite Neiman Marcus) pantyhose.
“May I help with your stockings?”
He’s turned those eyes of his on full blast. She’s made of sterner stuff than to be bowled over by the lashes and the glimmer, but he’s being a very good boy about the whole thing.
“Such a gentleman,” she says, lifting her leg even further, leaning back and looking down the line of herself to where Dale worries his lip a moment, before he sets to work. He slides his hands up her legs, traces her seams with his fingers, up, up until he reaches where her garter would be.
You get a nice reward, if you can surprise Dale Cooper. Denise happens to be very good at it.
His big eyes snap up again as his breath sucks in for a shocked moment. Not only undeterred but encouraged, those hands push up her skirt, rumpling it to get up to the band of her hose. Denise decides to give the guy a hand, lifts herself up just a little as Dale gets a grip on the nylon, palming her ass through her panties in the process.
She clicks her tongue, “Careful, you.”
Coop grins, color high in his soft cheeks. And he is careful, as he tugs her hose down her legs, as he carefully extracts each foot and examines her nail polish. He’s fond of darker shades, and he’d look darling in the deep teal she has on. Food for thought.
He rests his head on her knee when he’s finished, looking sweetly up at her once again. She reaches a hand down and strokes his face, smiling when he nuzzles into it.
She doesn’t so much tell him what to do next.
She spreads her knees and he falls in between them, fully knelt himself on the floor. Knees of steel, that one. Cooper gets back to touching, long delicate fingers stroking the backs of her knees, up her thighs. He pushes gently at her skirt, bunching it up as far as he can before he has to look back up, to wordlessly ask for a little help.
Denise obliges, sitting up and sidling closer to the edge of the bed. She stands, and Dale rocks back. His hands fly to her hips, her ass, as he, sure as ever, finds the zipper of her skirt and tugs it down.
She steps demurely out of the puddle of it, the tails of her blouse a little wrinkled, hanging free around her hips.
It’s tough sometimes, with Coop, to tell if he’s being entirely sincere, a little affected, or the strangest possible combination of both. He—honestly—licks his lips, and places his palms on her thighs.
“Can I?” He asks, so quietly she could mistake it for trepidation. She runs a hand over his hair, works a few strands loose.
“Go ahead, be a dear.”
She’s laughing as she says it, more than a little breathlessly.
Cooper presses his mouth to the front of her panties in a heartbeat, breath hot through the cotton. She’s been hard for a bit now, at least half-mast from the moment he showed up at her door like a cat looking for a scratch.
Now, he presses open-mouthed kisses to her cock, licking along the line of it he can see through the rapidly-dampening cloth.
Denise lets him go on like that for a while—she's deeply aroused, but not so much that she can’t be amused at the way he’s pressing his thighs together subtly. Very cute, and very cheap of him.
Filthier still, Dale opens his mouth and laves his tongue against the bulge, sloppily licking, kissing, sucking. Her breath catches in her throat as she groans, takes a proper grip on his hair so she can grind his face even deeper into her groin. Not that he needs the encouragement, he’s doing just fine.
He pulls back from the mess he’s made, mouth slick and swollen. “Let me suck you,” he rasps, the vibration of his plea against her, “I want you in my mouth.”
Who is she to say no?
Someone who knows him.
“You can ask,” she says softly, pressing her thumb into his wet bottom lip, “A whole lot nicer than that.”
For a brief moment he wraps his lips around her thumb, swirls his tongue against the pad of it.
“Please.”
It’s an odd thing, how Dale can make himself look so lascivious and so vulnerable at the same time. He’s not that much younger than her, but the big eyes and wet red mouth make him look unbearably cherubic, even when he’s angling to be ravished. She wants to kiss him. Later—plenty of time for that later.
“Well.” She smooths down the strands of his hair she’s disturbed. “Guess you’d better get to it.”
Cooper exhales, smiles, yanks her panties down impatiently, and immediately sucks the head of her cock into his mouth. He’s got a good technique; one hand wraps itself around the shaft and the other slides back to tease her balls, the space behind them.
She groans loud now, clasping harder on Dale’s head as he slides more of her into his throat, bobs with the rhythm of her short thrusts. He gags, gulps, moans around her cock as she tugs his hair.
God, he looks so good like this: he truly does love getting it deep in his throat.
Dale Cooper looks more endearing than he has any right to while choking on cock with tears in his eyes. He’s grinding on the heel of his own hand, his little groans ricocheting pleasure through Denise not only to hear, but to feel through warm, wet flesh.
She pulls him off sooner rather than later, watches him cough and sputter. The little glimpse of flushed skin at the throat of his flannel is driving her crazy, she wants to get it off of him.
So she does.
He stands when she tugs him, surges up into a kiss. His hands find her jaw first, tilting her in while she dispatches his shirt. That calling-card singlet is missing—he prepped for efficiency, as always.
Denise presses a hand into the small of his back, pulling him in even closer as Dale nips at her lower lip. When he pulls back a moment, she snorts to see her lipstick smeared across his mouth. He smiles, painfully charming, and turns his attention to removing her blouse, carefully undoing the buttons from the bottom up.
They knock into each other for a minute, trying to do away with belts and buttons, until they’re standing in a puddle of businesswear and flannel.
Dale is, for obvious reasons, a dab hand at removing bras. He does it eyes closed and left-handed, the other wrapped around the back of Denise’s neck, kneading at the muscle.
She wraps her arms around his waist, slips a hand into his boxers to grab his ass. She gets his moan as a reward, and his lips against her neck as she tugs the elastic down to drop to his ankles.
Cooper pushes her back a little, until she sits back on the bed. She scoots further onto the mattress as he climbs on top of her.
It’s different. The last time they’d fallen into bed, Denise was bent out of shape, overly committed to really getting one over on Coop, to show that she was, you know. The butch one in the room. And Coop, being the way he is, was more than willing to just lay back and moan, to let himself be worked over.
Now, though, his sense of gallantry seems to be in high gear. He crawls over her with complete self-assuredness, kissing all the skin he can reach. As he descends to her mouth, she brings her hands up flat along his back and strokes the planes of muscle—he’s so pleasantly lean.
“You’re really something, Denise,” he breathes into the hinge of her jaw, his hand kneading at her hip. His breath and kisses trail down to the smooth skin of her underarm, and he licks, bites at her tricep. “Really—” A heavy inhale in the hollow of her arm, where the peony deodorant dried powdery, “—Something special.”
“Coop…”
She closes a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him back to kiss her again. He props himself on his forearm and straddles her properly. He’s all she can see when she looks up, his big lipstick-smeared grin and dark eyes, flushed cheeks. “You’re not too bad yourself,” she sighs into him. “But you’ll be better if you touch me.”
Cooper really is a phenomenal kisser, especially when he decides he’s lead pilot. His lips, teeth, work her over from her temples to her lips, back down to her nipples and the shadowy part of her underarms.
Denise thinks, filing it away for later, that with a little more lead time he would be amazing, if she asked him to eat her out. That, however, is probably an expedition best left for another time—sometime soon.
Dale grinds down against her, where he’s wet. She groans and he smiles to hear it. He sits up and decides to show off a little, spreading his knees wider to open himself up.
She doesn’t touch him, for a bit, as he rocks himself back and forth across her cock. He’s soaked , she can see the wetness left behind as much as she can feel it. Herself, she’s beading precome and gasping at how much, and how little, it is.
“I’ll be careful,” Dale murmurs, leaning forward to pin one of her wrists. The angle changes, opens up more of himself for her to slide through as they frot against each other, falling back into more messy kisses.
He’s lying , though. The pretense is driving her wild.
It’s not an accident by any means when the head of her cock catches against him. Dale groans, and rocks delicately into it, only letting the tip tease at his channel.
She sighs dreamily, then takes him by surprise by grabbing his hips with a great deal of force, stopping him in the middle of a grinding circle.
“This is what you wanted, huh, Coop?”
He chuckles and shrugs, nods. It’s very endearing, true, but she’s not of a mind to just let him have his way with her.
“Showing up at my door, looking for a little action?” She moves him bodily, pulling her own hips back as his come down. “I’m not that kind of girl— but you are.”
He whines beautifully, mouth falling open and eyes nearly black.
They go like that for a while, frotting with just the head of her notched into him. Christ, it feels maddeningly good, the flutter of him as he tries, consciously and physically, to pull her all the way inside of himself. He answers her groans nicely, panting with the bright line of a whimper right through it.
“You feel good,” he nearly whispers from atop her. “How about we both feel better?”
“What, you can’t stand it?”
“I can’t.”
“You need it that bad?”
He looks down at her, flush spread all down his chest, his legs around her own. It looks filthy—he’s leaned just slightly backwards, so she can see the black hair between his legs, where just the tip of her disappears inside of him.
He says, “I want you.”
That rolls in her gut like adrenaline. Somehow, someway, she lets herself slip just that much further into him, and Cooper gasps as if she’s speared him fully.
Denise works herself into him slowly, not because he can’t take what she’s got—what Dale Cooper can take is truly something—but because she wants to watch him fall into it.
He reaches out, grabs onto one of her wrists as he seats himself high on her lap. She lets go of his hips, and their hands twist around until their fingers are interlocked. Her other hand goes to the small of his back, his own to stroke her cheekbone.
She thrusts up hard but slow and he matches her immediately— they set off to it, deep dirty grinds up inside of him, his palm sweaty against hers.
She presses at his back, to arch his spine a little more. Strands of black hair stick to his forehead.
He’s unbelievably tight, Jesus, he feels so good.
Coop relinquishes her hand and falls forward into her, teeth catching her upper lip as he badgers her for more kisses. They’re pressed together entirely like this. Chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other, her buried in him.
It’s more grinding than thrusting for a long while, praise and pleas and maybe a question panted into the humid air between them.
For all she’s ragged on Coop for his eagerness, Denise has never claimed to be the epitome of patience herself. This time she breaks first, nudges Cooper and rolls them over.
He spreads his legs obligingly and smiles, tugging her back in between them.
“You want it harder?” She asks as she slides home again. Her hair is spilling over her own shoulders, down onto Cooper.
“Always do.” And he winks, the little bastard.
So she gives it to him. Braces herself on her knees and grabs Coop under his own, holding his legs up and thrusting hard.
He moans his approval, one hand reaching up to grab her arm, the other delving down to tug at his own dick.
“Harder,” he begs her, tight like a vise inside and wet-open under her. “Denise, I want more.”
Shit, he can have it. She gives it to him with all the force she can, blowing her hair out of her face, bruising the shit out of his thighs. The whole while, Coop gasps, moans getting higher with every rough thrust inside of him.
He’s unbelievably hot inside, slick and noisy between his legs.
When she lets those go, braces herself above him on her arms, he wraps them around her waist immediately. He follows suit with his arms and then they’re twined around each other, wet noisy thrusting and loud, rough panting.
His eyes close a moment and she kisses them, down his cheeks. She can’t last much longer, thrusting full tilt into his tight, willing cunt. Not long for it, as hard as they’ve been going.
She tells him, in his ear at the soft spot of skin where her lipstick rubs off and gets him dirty, and Cooper just about wails.
“In me,” he presses insistently, wet against her ear. It’s just this side of pushy until the soft “Inside of me, please.”
Impulsive. Brave. Cooper is not cautious.
Well, neither is she.
Denise gets off a last charge of thrusts, gripping Coop like he might fly out from under her. That hand has returned between his legs, rubbing harshly at himself as he claws down her back with the other. His legs grip her waist as tight as those strong thighs can and then Cooper dissolves into orgasm.
“Denise,” he pants, staring her down as her rhythm grows sloppy, as he clenches and seizes up around her. “Denise—!”
“Oh, God…”
She shudders as she comes, burying her face in Dale’s sweaty throat. Her hips, shoved tight between his thighs, jerk a soft couple of times before she drops onto his chest, exhausted.
One of his hands wanders up to thrum fingers across her shoulder blade, and she laughs into Cooper’s skin when the heaving of his chest slows, and her own breath returns.
She rolls off of him, and Cooper makes a malcontented sound when she slips out. Denise laughs, sitting up, and squeezes, pats him on the thigh.
“Albert’s right.”
Dale’s soft “Oh?” Comes before he figures out what she’s saying, then he grins sheepishly, closes his eyes.
She follows, “You really are easy.”
She means this with nothing but affection. He looks a sight, for sure. His hair is sticking up, he’s painted in her lipstick, and there’s a hickey on his neck that may end up only half-covered by the collar of his shirt.
Coop follows suit, sits up and leans into her, wrapping an arm around her waist.
“I’m supposed to turn down rolling around in bed with a beautiful woman?” Pecks her on the cheek. “With a friend?”
“Charmer.”
“Mhm. Your hair really is beautiful,” he says by her cheek, lifting a few strands in his fingers.
She reminds him, “It’s a wig, Coop.”
Ugh, and a wig that’s only mostly on straight anymore, and one she’s going to have to spend forever detangling. She really should have thought of that.
It was worth it, though, to have it on. She likes her long hair.
Dale waves his hand dismissively.
“Still. Beautiful.”
“Thanks. I oughta take it off, anyway. I’m a mess.”
Cooper looks delicately down between his own legs and back to her with just a hint of a quirked eyebrow. The unspoken that makes two of us draws another chuckle from Denise.
“Want to help me take it off?” She asks him quietly. She might as well.
Coop beams and nods enthusiastically. He’s careful dislodging the pins keeping her hair in place, placing them neatly on the nightstand next to them.
He lifts her hair off with careful, steady hands, smoothing it between his palms as he gently sets it down.
Denise always feels profoundly more naked with just her wig cap on, than with her short hair out. It’s soothed by Dale pressing soft little kisses to her hairline as he tugs it off. She’s sweaty—it’s been a long day capped off by some pretty significant cardio—and he presses his nose into the hair right above her ear.
“Easy there, tiger. I think it’s time for a shower.”
Coop’s always pretty tactile, but he turns the dial past maximum there in the shower. He insists on washing Denise’s hair for her, and lathers conscientiously—pads of your fingers, never the nails.
He gets all up in her armpit again, and this time it tickles , so she pushes him around to put a stop to his antics. Of course he likes that, so one thing leads to another, to Cooper coming on her fingers as she jerks him off against the wall.
When they emerge, having done their part to put the water heater through its paces, Denise reaches for a nightgown. She turns back, to where Cooper is standing, comfortably nude and smiling softly at her.
“What?”
“I’m proud to know you.”
“Oh, save it,” but she’s blushing and they can both see it. “Are you going to stay?”
“If you’ll have me, at least for a while. I wouldn’t necessarily depend on me being here when you wake.”
Denise shakes the garment over her head, tugs it down around her hips. Just in time, she remembers her skirt, left crumpled on the floor. She picks it up and drapes it through the hanger holding her blazer— “What, you don’t want to give the morning cleaning crew a little something to gossip about?”
He smiles, truly bashful for maybe the first time all night. He retrieves his discarded boxers and clambers into bed after her. Denise kills the light next to them, and lays back.
Cooper is over her in a heartbeat, cradling her face in his palm and kissing her softly. He’s not angling for anything at all, but his hand is warm on her chest and Denise can admit, just to herself, that she swoons a little.
“Goodnight, Denise,” he says warmer than anything, smiling as he pulls away.
“Goodnight, Coop.”
She shifts onto her side and he wraps an arm around her waist, pressing in to spoon her from behind. The soft, warm rhythm of his breath at the back of her neck is unbelievably soothing. After the day she’s had, the workout and the wind-down are better than much else she could think of.
Solid chance he’s there when she wakes, but if he’s not, she understands his bizarre sense of personal modesty.
For now, drifting to sleep with someone at her back, Denise feels herself quite the lucky lady.