CSI:NY (Flack/Lindsay); Prompt #22: Libido

Fandom: CSI:NY
Title: John Lennon and Yoko Ono Staged A Protest
Characters: Don Flack, Lindsay Monroe
Prompt: #22, Libido
Word Count: 981
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Mild language, smut.
Rating: PG-13 / T
Disclaimer: The names of all characters contained herein are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.
A/N: Crossposted; csi_ny_fic and flack_monroe, written for psych_30. Okay I kind of love FM Radio but my muse is running out of steam again. :(




Flack pulled himself closer to Lindsay and to be honest he didn’t know why he was doing this. She had been in New York for over a year and he hardly knew her. All he knew was that she was from Montana, she liked her tea green and flavored with lemon, and she preferred sunrises to sunsets. He tangled his hands in her hair and bit lightly down on her collarbone, pressed soft kisses trailing upward to her mouth. Flack knows this is wrong, he feels like he’s lost track of everything these days, even himself.

The lights are dim in his bedroom, and Flack knew the reason was that he liked looking at Lindsay. Not at a particular moment but just in general. There was something about her that just made it necessary for him to look. While she was sleeping, when she turned to him in bed and spoke, when she came, just…everything. He liked looking.

Lindsay pulled away gently and he made a soft sound of protest, but he stilled when she removed his tie (the one she had bought him for his birthday two weeks ago and the only decent one he has.) He reached to unbutton his shirt but she covered his hands with her own.

“No, Don. Let me.”

She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, trapping his arms behind his back. Lindsay kissed him then, kissed him with a wild abandon that he returned eagerly, shrugging his shoulders to remove the shirt. She drew away briefly to tug her own shirt over her head, to remove her shoes, to take off her pants.

Flack inhaled sharply. This relationship was new, barely two months old, yet the sight of her freshly disrobed still rent his thoughts asunder. Her bra and panties were white, cotton; perfectly sensible, just like her. She licked her lips sensually before quietly reminding him that it was his turn to do the same. He didn’t mind really, but after he had removed the unnecessary clothing he realized that all the other times with Lindsay had been heated kisses and urgent hands and clothesoffrightnow. But this, this was different. This was slow and languid and he wants her.

He’d never tell Lindsay but he realized the second night in that he could never want anything else for tonight or the rest of his life except for her. But that’s his secret.

Flack pressed open-mouth kisses on the soft skin of Lindsay’s stomach as she lay beneath him on his bed, naked and oh god so beautiful. His hands traced the curve of her waist, and when he looked up to meet Lindsay’s gaze her hand caressed his cheek and she sighed his name. He moved upward along her body until his mouth hovered above hers; it took everything in Flack to not just let his lips meet hers but he really needed to tell her something. Maybe it’s too soon but he felt it was something he had to do.

“Linds, I have to—”

She kissed him suddenly, taking advantage of his open mouth to slide her tongue smoothly inside. The kiss grew heated quickly, with both Flack and Lindsay yearning for dominance. After a moment they parted and she said softly, “Not now. Don’t say it, not yet. I’m not ready.”

He nodded a quick understanding before entwining their hands together and pressing them into the pillows. Lindsay arched against him and he eased himself inside her—ohgodsogood, can’t think where was I, must’ve left me somewhere—and Flack realized that this was what he had wanted all along. Just hours spent lying in bed with Lindsay, the talking leading to touching and the touching leading to sex and the sex leading to love. Maybe Flack’s already at that last step but she isn’t; she’s not ready but he’ll wait.

When he woke up Lindsay was already awake, leaning on her elbow facing him, her free hand running through his hair. He had learned quickly that she had a thing for his hair. They stared at each other for a moment or two, not quite sure how last night had changed them.

“What are you thinking?” Lindsay asked finally.

“I’m thinking that I just had sex, again, with a girl that I barely know even though I’ve been working with her for over a year.”

She smiled softly, her hand resting on the side of his face.

“And how does that make you feel?”

“Good morning to you too, Sigmund,” Flack said, grinning smugly.

Lindsay rasied her eyebrow and waited.

“Aw, shit, Lindsay. I dunno. I guess it feels like freefalling through space. What are you thinking?”

She pulled herself closer to him, resting her head on his chest. He brushed a rogue lock of hair behind her ear as she began to speak. He loved her hair, he really did.

“I’m thinking that last night was different from all the other nights we’ve been together and I like it that way. I want to go with you,” she said.

Flack frowned. He wasn’t planning on going anywhere. He hadn’t planned a vacation or taken any time off, not since the whole mess with Gavin. He remembered when he had told Lindsay about Gavin and Hector and all of that shit, how fucked up it all was. She had just listened and she pulled him close and for the first time since it had all happened he cried. There was something about her that made him feel safe and he’d be damned if it wasn’t just that she didn’t expect anything of him.

“What do you mean, Linds? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I mean if you were to go anywhere I’d go with you, Don,” she said, “and it’s not out of some very false sense of security. I just…would.”

Flack kissed the top of her head and understood completely.