Sunday Sports
By: MajorSam

Author's Notes: Three guesses as to who prompted this. I'll wait. Okay, yes, you guessed it. PeachCheetah! Oh, how the brilliance overfloweth.

Set anytime after Lucy and Wyatt (Finally) get together. Before kids, after kids… You decide what you like best!

Beware: Brazen cheesiness and shameless smut.


Wyatt sighed and sunk further into the couch. His mind wandered as a commercial came on, not that he'd been paying much attention to the game anyway. It was the beginning of the season and his team wasn't even playing. Despite that, he couldn't be more content. He'd never have thought, never have dreamed, especially during the last few years, that this would be his life one day. Lucy had had a long and stressful week at work, subsisting mainly on coffee and a few stolen hours of sleep here and there, and had crashed hard that weekend. She'd woken for a little while that morning, enough for a bit of idle chatting and some soft, slow lovemaking, but afterwards she'd immediately fallen asleep again. Wyatt, wide awake, had carefully gotten up, showered, and puttered around the apartment for a bit before settling into some Sunday sports.

And it was glorious. All of it. He couldn't picture a more lovely way to spend a Sunday, except for maybe the nice dinner that was formulating in his mind. He might even buy Lucy some flowers, just because. And if he was lucky, she'd agree to a bath afterwards. With candles. Wyatt laughed to himself and shook his head. If only his ex Delta Force buddies could see him now. They'd call him soft. Wyatt would call himself lucky. The luckiest guy on the whole planet.

Suddenly a blur of colour crossed his vision, the bright light of the television momentarily dimmed. He frowned and shook himself out of his haze, realizing the blur had been Lucy. He blinked a few times, focusing in on her and when he did, any rational thought fled his mind.

She was wearing his shirt. And only his shirt. The long blue plaid sleeves, soft and worn, hung past her hands while the bottom hem brushed her thighs. He'd seen her in just his shirt before. Several times. But God help him the sight never, ever got old. The endless lengths of her slim legs were on full display for him. The thighs that could grip him so tight. The smooth curves of her calves. The ankles she complained were knobby. The feet she stumbled over so often, but that were also capable of amazing grace. He realized her toes were painted a bright, sparkly pink. Wyatt would laugh and ask her about it if he had any breath left in his body. He forced his gaze from her legs up to her face. It was framed by a wild tangle of curls.

He'd noticed her hair was crazy after she'd had a shower the day before and not done a thing with it; a very rare thing for her. "I could not possibly care less about my hair right now," she'd said. He knew by now that she'd grouse about having to fix the mess when she had to get ready for work the next day. He secretly loved it when she let it go natural.

The chaotic curls framed a face that was almost as out of sorts. Her eyebrows were knit tight, eyes only half open and still glazed with sleep, her lips drawn up in a pout. She was fumbling about the living room in what seemed to Wyatt a totally random fashion.

In short, she was adorable.

Having recovered a small amount of brain function, Wyatt opened his mouth to speak. But just then…

She bent over.

And she wasn't wearing any underwear.

His shirt had ridden up just enough to bare everything and his brain truly did short circuit this time, any and all blood in his body racing south. All he could see were her tight, smooth, rounded cheeks and sweet lord in heaven how was she So. Fucking. Perfect? Right thenthe TV suddenly erupted with sound. Somebody must have made a touchdown, and the crowds were going wild. Wyatt couldn't believe the coincidental timing. He wanted to cheer at the sight in front of him as well.

He must have made a noise because she abruptly stood up and turned to face him. Her sleepy, frowny face did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I jus… can't find my phone charger. Didn't mean to get in the way. Jus' watch your game, I'll be gone in a sec."

She turned back to her task and Wyatt could only stare at her, incredulous. Like he could possibly go back to watching football now!?

"Lucy," he said, wincing when his voice was far gravellier than he intended. She waved him off without looking.

"Be gone soon, promise. Just need the stupid charger. I was reading this great article on Calamity Jane but my battery is about to die and I don't wanna lose my place and-"

He cut off her rambling with a short bark of her name. "Lucy!"

She startled and looked at him again, eyes growing large. For a second Wyatt marvelled at the fact that she could stand there, wide-eyed and innocent, so completely unaware of what she was doing to him. Then she raised a hand to her hair and ruffled it and he was lost.

"Come here, right now." He didn't think he was capable of standing. Her eyes grew ever wider at his tone, the words a clear order. She shuffled forward. As soon as she was within reach, he grabbed her waist and brought her to stand right between his legs. He looked up at her and she smiled sweetly down at him, her make-up less face glowing, hair sticking up everywhere, and still a bit sleepy.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me right now?" he said slowly.

Her face scrunched up in confusion and she was even cuter than before.

His hand travelled from her tiny waist to her hips, then down until his hands left flannel and found skin. He slipped fully under the shirt and cupped her ass. She gasped.

"You're in my shirt," he ground out. "And only my shirt."

Understanding dawned in her big, brown eyes. "My phone was about to die," she explained in a suddenly strained voice. "I didn't have time to get fully dressed. Your shirt was the first thing I saw and so…"

She trailed off as he started kneading her flesh.

"You're not getting back to that article," he informed her, running his hands slowly down the back of her thighs.

"O…Oh?" she took a shaky breath.

"Nope," he shook his head, a smirk forming as he got to the back of her knees, her thighs tensing at the light touch on sensitive skin. He skimmed over to the front of her knees and started up again, wrapping around her legs, his thumbs brushing up her inner thighs.

"Okay," she nodded faintly, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders for balance as her legs started to tremble. Her chest rose and fell with increasingly short breaths. His hands moved higher and higher until the shirt caught on his wrists and even then, he kept going, lifting it up to her waist. His mouth literally watered as she was revealed to him. She was at just the perfect height, too, for him to lean in and…

Lucy realized this too, clutching at him and raising a leg to rest on the couch beside his thigh, balancing herself better which also happened to spread her wider. Wyatt groaned, gazing up at her with a wild mixture of lust and adoration. It was her turn to smirk down at him. She was wide awake now, and very aware of what she was doing to him. So, he did the only thing he knew would always wipe a smirk from her face. He dragged her forward and buried his face between her legs. She keened above him, one hand leaving his shoulder to rake through his hair. He thought he'd need to work her up a bit more, tease her until she reached the level he'd so rapidly ascended to, but he found her already ready to go. He lapped at her a few times for his own sake before pulling back and gazing up at her in amazement.

"For you, Wyatt," she quietly confessed. "You look at me like you do, and I just… I can't get enough."

His heart wanted to thud out of his chest, words beating at it to be let out, but he just couldn't put the voice behind them. All he could verbalize was a gutteral "I love you" before he reached up to thread his hand through her frizzy hair and pull her down to him, their lips molding together in a frenzied rush. She moaned at the taste of herself on his tongue, sucking it into her mouth as she fell forward onto him. He relaxed back into the couch, hauling her into his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. They were making out like frantic teenagers, unable to get enough, to be close enough. She threw off his t-shirt while he used shaking hands to wrench open a few buttons on her shirt. There were only a few done up to begin with, and he gave up after two, the material loose enough to pull aside and expose her breasts. The soldier groaned at the sight, her chest heaving, nipples tight and begging for him. He banded an arm around her back and brought her to him, sucking on a tight peak and making her moan, her hands in his hair. He raked his teeth over her, nibbling lightly and she whimpered his name, grinding down against him. His thin sleep shorts did nothing to bar the heat of her from seeping into his skin. He licked his way over to her other breast, paying his due reverence until he couldn't stand her writhing hips any longer. His hands migrated downwards past her hips, squeezing her tight cheeks and fuck, he had to see it again, her perfect ass, peeking out beneath his shirt.

He tore his mouth away from her, her breathless whine making his gut clench but not deterring him from his goal. He took her by the hips and wrangled her until she was bent over the back of the couch, his blue plaid halfway up her slim waist while her perky backside was perfectly presented to him. For a moment he was paralyzed, the sight too flawless, the reality of it too good to be true. Then Lucy tossed her hair to one side and looked back at him with hooded eyes, so dark they were practically black. Her mouth was parted, panting.

And then she said his name. And he came alive.

He whipped off his shorts and was behind her in seconds, gripping her pliant body and adjusting it so she was at the perfect angle for him. And then he slid home.

They both cried out, the first moment of coming together always so good, so right, that it overwhelmed them. Wyatt got over it fast, though, the need for more quickly overpowering any other sense he had left. He always needed more of her. He held her steady and started to pound into her. She met him for every thrust, her lithe form spreading and undulating and pressing back against him like their bodies were made for each other. Wyatt fully believed they were. Not just their bodies, but them. Everything about them. However different they seemed on paper… he knew that he was made for Lucy, and Lucy was made for him. It was fate. And goddamn was he happy he'd finally accepted that, because he couldn't imagine living the rest of his life without her. Without this. He wanted to make it last, to make it as good for her as possible but his body had other ideas. He just kept seeing her stumbling around the living room with her wild hair and scrunchy face. Then her bending over. Then her above him, smirking. Then her now, right in front of him in the present, in that very second, bent over and slamming back against him.

Fuck.

He rammed into her until she screamed, a throaty "Fuck, yes!" and he was lost. He lasted three more thrusts before he was losing himself inside her, a hand sliding between her legs to roughly rub at her until moments later she was gripping him like a vice. She milked him for all he was worth as he did the same, stroking her until she was twitching against him, collapsing into the soft cushions of the couch.

"Wyatt," she choked.

He withdrew his hand and let his himself collapse, falling so that his body lay between her body and the back of the couch, gathering her up against him, her back to his chest. Their legs naturally intertwined as their hands clasped together against her chest. For a moment Wyatt closed his eyes, filling his lungs with the scent of her skin as he felt the staccato of her heart against his hand. Then he heard the TV again, another sudden, rousing cheer breaking through the post-coital bliss and he had to laugh, his chest rumbling against her.

"Hmm?" Lucy mumbled. He could sense the lull of sleep was already calling to her and felt it within himself as well. "Somebody score?"

Wyatt chuckled. "We sure just did."

She groaned against him, but he could feel the smile form on her lips. "Happy to provide the assist."

They laughed together, silly and sated, until they drifted off to sleep.

The End


So... What do you think? Before kids? After? Beginning few months of pregnancy?

The prompt was, btw, the general idea of Wyatt on the couch and Lucy breezing by in only his shirt. So many ways that could go, all with the same, inevitable conclusion... ;)