Author's Notes: Thanks to PeachCheetah for her help. What help? Well, more notes at the end 😉
It started first in the morning, before Wyatt had even left for work. He'd tried to be quiet, but just as he was putting the lid on his travel coffee mug, she'd come out to greet him. A hand was in her hair, tousling the sleep-wild curls, eyes squinting, her walk more shambling than anything. She was, in summary, utterly adorable. And to Wyatt, utterly sexy.
And she was wearing his shirt. And only his shirt. One of the plaid ones, of course. They were her favourite. She'd only done two buttons up.
"Mmm," she hummed as she saw him, her eyes lighting up. "Morning." She shuffled right up to him, encircling his neck with her arms, the sleeves so long they covered her hands as she rose onto her tip-toes to kiss him. It was soft and sleepy and made her hum again.
"Taste like coffee," she murmured, her eyes closing as her lips quirked up. "Yummy."
"Aren't I always?"
Her eyes opened and she smirked at him, dropping from her toes to the ground. She sidled yet closer to him and tipped her hips against his, rolling them leisurely. His breath stuttered. She pulled back and looked down between his legs, brazenly eyeing him.
"Yes," she nodded. "You always are."
He groaned and leaned in to kiss her again, but she hopped back, laughing at him
"Time for you to go to work, babe. Sorry."
He gaped at her in disbelief, but she merely shrugged one shoulder and tapped her wrist. "No time."
"We can be quick!"
"Sorry, sweetheart. Maybe later?"
His eyes narrowed suspiciously as she started making herself a cup of coffee. She suddenly seemed a lot more awake than she'd been just a second ago.
"Did you do that on purpose?" he accused. She wouldn't purposely come out, in just his shirt, right as he was leaving for work, just to mess with him, right?
She looked over at him with wide eyes, pausing half pour. "Do what?"
He shook his head. No, of course she wouldn't. She wasn't that cruel. "Never mind."
"Have a good day at work."
She let him land his kiss this time, a quick peck before he hurried over to the door, worried he might be late now, for his silly suspicious thoughts.
She wouldn't do that.
She would, in fact, do that.
Wyatt knew it the moment Lucy sent the first text. In his hurry to get away from her and her temptations, he'd apparently forgotten his coffee mug. She'd helpfully sent a text to let him know. It was a photo of the mug, in her hand. To anyone glancing over his shoulder they'd think nothing of it. But if they looked closely, they'd realize the blurry background was, in fact, the exact shade of Lucy's skin. Her bare skin. Probably something innocent enough, like her arm, but even so. Wyatt got the message. He didn't rise to the bait, though.
Whoops he typed back. I'll have to grab one from the break room.
Were you distracted this morning? Her reply came in seconds later.
He gritted his teeth. Just forgot.
I could bring you one from home.
His fingers paused over the phone screen. They could go to that one supply closet... or if one of the change rooms in the gym were empty...
No, he wouldn't give in to her blatant manipulation. She thought she could play him so easily. Ha!
No, I'm good, thanks. Maybe next time.
His phone was mercifully silent for an hour or so. He was browsing said phone and sipping his second break room coffee (not as good as from home) when another text came in. He was glad the sip had been small so when he choked at the attached photo, he spat only a few drops of coffee onto the screen.
Again, to the unknowing viewer, it wouldn't be a big deal. It was Lucy taking a selfie, a wide smile on her face as she held an arm high at a 90-degree angle beside her, a weight in her hand. To anyone passing by, it was a normal gym selfie. But Wyatt knew better. He could tell Lucy was wearing only a sports bra. The whole glorious expanse of her torso would be on full display if the camera had zoomed out. She'd be wearing tiny, tight shorts, her wondrous legs on display as well. He could see a sheen of sweat on her brow, recognize the flush in her cheeks that came with a good workout. Or certain other activities. She knew exactly how much he loved her like that. They'd crafted a little home gym in the spare room, and he'd been trying to teach her that there were other types of exercise besides running. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at every opportunity but never seemed to complain when he was working out. In fact, she somehow always ended up in the same room, supposedly reading a book, or doing research on her laptop. But he could feel her eyes on him, watching his every move. On the occasion that she joined him, he usually got more of a workout in self-restraint than of his muscles. She only wore the tiny little clothes at home. Just for him. Their joint workouts always led to other, even more vigorous activity. And then to a shower.
He could use a decidedly cold shower right about then.
Instead, he texted her some encouraging words and an "I'm proud of you." Making no comment on her state of dress, or lack thereof. She maintained radio silence again until his lunch break. Or rather lunch meeting. Which was very important. Which she very well knew. She wouldn't mess with him during his meeting, would she? He tensed as his phone vibrated in his pocket, knowing he shouldn't check it. But damn if his morbid curiosity didn't get the best of him. So much for being able to hold up under duress. He could list several former CO's who would be vastly disappointed in him.
But they'd never met Lucy Preston.
Wyatt slipped the device out of his pocket carefully and, keeping it under the table, glanced down. Letting out a breath of relief at seeing it was an email, not a text from Lucy, he absentmindedly checked it.
And immediately regretted doing so.
It was an email, sure, but it was a receipt. From their shared Amazon Prime account. For a next day delivery of a few new toys. Adult toys. Fire ignited in his veins, burning straight through his insides to the now very tight seam of his dress pants. He silently cursed his wife, the grip he had on a pen tightening till his knuckles were white.
His head whipped up, eyes wide as he glanced around the table, trying to find the source of the voice. Agent Christopher was staring pointedly at him with a raised brow. Shit.
He cleared his throat and offered a "Sorry, could you repeat that?" and hoped no one asked him where his head had been. The rest of the meeting continued in a blur, Wyatt catching only every other sentence as the items she'd purchased haunted his thoughts. The second the meeting was done he excused himself for a long bathroom break.
He prayed the torture was done for the day, with the end of work swiftly approaching.
His prayers went unanswered.
The abominable phone chimed with another photo. How did she manage to toe the line so perfectly of innocent-to-everyone-else poses that to his knowing gaze meant so much more? That lit his body on fire? She wasn't even in the photo, yet it caused his blood pressure to skyrocket. This was getting seriously bad for his health. The photo was of the laundry closet, a basket on the ground, full of fresh clothes. Resting on top of random shirts and socks, in an oh-so-casual way that Wyatt knew was entirely staged, was a set of lacy pink lingerie. A set he'd never seen before. He dropped the phone, banging a fist on the desk in frustration.
"Woah," his assistant, Calvin's eyes were wide as he stood frozen in the doorway, folder in hand. "You okay, boss?"
"Fine," he growled shortly. "Just give me the damn file and get out."
"Oookay…" the young man was in an out in a flash, shutting the door heavily behind him. Wyatt closed his eyes with a sigh, resting his elbows on the desk, his head in his hands. Tomorrow he'd have to buy Calvin a coffee, a good coffee, to say sorry. Poor guy didn't deserve to get his head bitten off. He just couldn't pull himself together anymore, couldn't handle dealing with anyone. Anyone except Lucy. Because holy hell was she going to get it for this. The second he got home he was going to-
His phone chimed again.
What now? What more could she possibly do to him beyond actual naked photos, which he knew she'd never send.
It was a photo of her again. In their bed. Her luscious, raven hair was fanned out over the pillow and his hand twitched, itching to run his fingers through it, grasp it hard, tug on it. Her head was tilted a bit to the side, a cheeky smirk on her face, eyes hooded with intent. There was only a hint of one shoulder to be seen, but enough that he could see a tiny strip of pink. She was wearing the new lingerie. The lacy ones. The caption innocently said
"Going down for a nap."
Okay, fuck this.
He abruptly stood up, abandoning any pretense of getting more work done that day. His stuff was packed in seconds and he stormed out, calling a "Heading home. Family emergency." To anyone within listening distance. If he'd been pulled over on the way home, he'd probably be arrested for dangerous driving. He feared his grip on the wheel would crush it, his jaw clenched almost to the point of pain. He was driving too fast and he was what could be classified as far less than focused on the road. He miraculously made it in one piece, skipping the elevator and running up the stairs instead. Shaking hands took far too long unlocking the door. Finally, it burst open.
"Lucy," he barked.
There was no reply.
His hands were still shaking as he ripped off his shoes and threw his coat aside. He unbuckled his belt and undid his pants as he strode purposely through the apartment, calling for his wife. She was nowhere to be seen; the home was silent. She wouldn't actually be napping, right? With ever mounting anticipation he finally opened the door to the bedroom, stopping short in the doorway as he was suddenly robbed of breath.
Lucy was spread out on their bed, her long, dark hair messily framing her head against her pillow, legs splayed wide apart, completely naked. Her left arm was thrown up above her head, but with the right, she was touching herself.
"Lucy…" he choked.
She just gave him a breathy moan, eyes closed as she slipped a finger inside herself.
Wyatt whipped off his clothes in record time, stalking towards her but right before he could reach her her left arm flew upwards with her hand up to stop him.
"No." Her voice was throaty but commanding. "You don't get to touch."
"What?" he growled. Was she kidding him? After all the shit she'd been sending him all day?
Her breath hitched, hips rolling once, twice before she spoke again. "Sit," she commanded.
He glanced over at the armchair in the corner of the room, shaking his head and groaning. "Lucy…"
Without even looking, eyes still closed, she pointed sharply at the chair. "Sit."
He gazed helplessly down at her, her perfect body on full display, nipples tight and begging for his mouth. He was rock hard and straining for her, but he knew what she was doing, and he knew there was no way he could win. He never could, against her. He walked stiff legged to the chair and dropped into it, glaring at her glorious form as she moaned. Whether it was because of her own fingers or in approval of his submission he would never know. He gritted his teeth and settled in. When Lucy got into one of her moods, she liked to make it last.
She liked to perform.
Sure enough, she proceeded to put on a show for him. With every rock of her hips, every clench of her abs, he found it harder and harder to sit still. When her breathy cries turned into words he nearly leapt out of the chair.
"Oh baby," she opened her eyes and turned her head to look straight at him, eyes hooded. "My pussy's so wet…"
His knuckles were white, gripping the edge of the chair arm. He had to look away, but his eyes landed straight on a little bundle of material on the floor. The pink, lacy lingerie from the photos. Damn it! The bra was close by, too. He looked back at his wife. Her left hand was playing with her hair but when his heated gaze hit her, she ran it down her cheek, along her neck and down to her chest. She toyed with a nipple, eliciting a deeper moan and a quiver of her knees. He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clenching into fists as he watched. She began to work harder, her mouth dropping open into an O as the sounds coming out of her mouth grew longer and more frequent. He wanted to be the one causing those sounds. His body ached to touch her, taste her, delve deep inside of her. His system was flooded with arousal, his hands trembling with the effort to not take himself in his own embrace. He knew there would be consequences if he did. He knew it would be worth it to wait. If he could make it that far.
Fuck was it hard.
When she dipped two fingers inside herself, he called out her name, unable to help himself. She laughed at him, a dark chuckle that drew out into a moan. A moan that turned into a series of them, louder and louder as her hips started to move against her hand, undulating as she rubbed herself faster and faster, her second hand moving to join the first between her legs. He thought he might blow on the spot as he watched her finally do so, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as she prolonged her climax as long as she could. Her body eventually stilled but for a slight heave of her chest as she sucked in air and let it out on loud, drawn out exhales. The fabric of his entire being was on edge, muscles hard with tension as he waited, hoped, prayed, just a bit longer. Please. Please!
Finally, finally, she opened her eyes to him, licking her lips slowly as she reached up to start playing with a nipple again.
"I wanted you so bad," she husked at him. "All day. I wanted you inside me so bad."
She was going to kill him one of these days. If not with her body, then with her words.
"I would have come home."
She smirked at him. "But this was so much more fun."
The electricity vying to short out his brain thought otherwise. "For you, maybe."
"Oh come on, baby. You know you liked it."
"I like being inside you better."
She continued to smirk, laying both arms above her head and stretching languorously. "Well then what are you waiting for? Come and fuck me already."
His groan was visceral as he launched himself out of the chair. He was on top of her in seconds, hands on her hips roughly getting her into place before slamming into her with no further pretense. She tipped her head back and screamed.
"Yes! Oh god, baby, fuck me! Fuck me so hard."
He couldn't form words, only wild grunts escaping him as he pounded into her with all he had. He lasted all of three thrusts before he lost himself, his self-control shot from a full day of torturous teasing. He jerked into her until he was spent before collapsing. He could barely breathe, mind a wash of white that could only recognize the smoothness of her soft skin, the feel of her fingers stroking soothingly through his hair.
When he could finally think again, he burrowed further into her and swore. "Fuck, Lucy."
She rumbled with laughter beneath him and continued to play with his hair. He shook his head and brought it up, heavily, to look at her.
"M'sorry," he slurred, and pulled out of her before sliding a hand down her waist to between her thighs.
"No, Wyatt," she said gently. "It's okay."
"But you didn't-"
"Yes I did. Before."
"But I didn't-"
"It's fine. You weren't supposed to. This is exactly what I wanted."
She encouraged him to lay his head on her chest. His hand moved to wrap around the back of her thigh as his body slumped against her. Her hand took residence in his hair again as the other stroked soothingly down his back. She'd been telling the truth; his reactions, his agony, his utter lack of control, was exactly what she'd wanted. She'd never been a wallflower in bed, but she'd never been exactly dominant either. She'd never had the confidence nor the trust in her partner. Until Wyatt. With him she could do anything, ask for anything, and not be afraid of ridicule or contempt. She'd been growing more confident every day, pushing him, and them, further and further. The knowledge that she could render this powerful, strong soldier completely mindless… the rush of power was intoxicating. She'd never abuse it, of course, but every now and then she couldn't resist driving him absolutely insane. He did the same to her, in turn. Sometimes they'd be wound up for days afterwards. How was it possible that their physical connection only continued to get better and better? Admittedly they both thought, on days like this, that the other was cruel, heartless, relentless.
But all's fair in love and war, and they'd had more than enough war. Now there was only time left for love.
Extra thanks to Peach for many in depth discussions on Lyatt's sexting/photo sending boundaries and rules. Also, for exploring what stuff Lucy could still send him that would drive him insane while not being incriminating to others. Oh such fun, hehehe. What other "innocent" stuff do YOU think she could send to drive him wild? Maybe I'll write a part two! On the flip side, what could Wyatt send her?