Work Text:
Jamia's arranging papers she knows she's already arranged on Lindsey's desk, the same ones Lindsey keeps messing up. Lindsey is reclined in her chair, her eyes closed, her arms and legs crossed.
"You realize I can tell the difference between when you've read them and when you're just messed them up on your desk to look like you've read them," Jamia says.
"I know," Lindsey says, without opening her eyes.
"If you've read them, especially this one," Jamia says, extracting a paper from the pile, and holding it out until Lindsey opens her eyes and takes it from her, "You'd be complaining. And you should see what this one says."
"Are you just not interested?" Lindsey says.
"In your paperwork?" Jamia says, "It's my job to be interested."
"Your job. That's what I mean."
Jamia turns around, resting her back on the desk. "What's wrong with you tonight?" Jamia says. She can't keep the worry out of her voice, and so she tries to hide it by being pushy. "If you're tired, just go home, we can do the rest of this tomorrow. Honestly, it will be faster if you're well rested. We should both know better than to try to make you get any paperwork done after sunset."
"We should know better," Lindsey says. "Is that code?"
"Is what code?"
"Are you using a code with me?" Lindsey says, uncrossing her legs and sitting forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "To make it easier?"
"To make what easier?" Jamia says, "I'm not using code. And if I was using code, it certainly wouldn't make getting you to do your paperwork any easier. Let's just get you home."
"You use code with Frank," Lindsey says, and Jamia feels her mouth drop open before she can stop herself.
"That's because Frank isn't exactly a master of discretion," Jamia finally manages. "Why are you talking about Frank?"
"Because I asked," Lindsey says, screwing up her face in a sour expression, "I asked if you just weren't interested."
"Well you're clearly not interested in work tonight either, so you can't fault me," she says, turning around and shuffling the papers on Lindsey's desk again.
"Jamia," Lindsey says with a sigh, and then suddenly she's standing up and she's so close, Jamia turns around and tries to take a step back but she's already backed right up against the desk. Lindsey's so close Jamia can smell her perfume, and she can see the creamy smudge of Lindsey's lipstick over the curve of her lips. It makes Jamia's stomach drop.
"What are you doing?" Jamia asks, and is surprised to hear how unsteady her voice sounds.
"If you're not interested," Lindsey says, and suddenly the word has such implication, Jamia can't believe she didn't hear it earlier. "It's fine, you just have to tell me."
"It's not fine," Jamia says suddenly, without thinking it through, and Lindsey's mouth quirks up at the corner the way it always does when she's about to smile her way through an argument.
"Which part," Lindsey says, though she moves just that much closer, and Jamia's hands slip on the papers behind her where she's holding herself up.
"If I wasn't interested," Jamia says. "It wouldn't be fine. It would be awkward."
"Which is why I thought you were using code," Lindsey says, and she touches her lips just to Jamia's cheek. Jamia holds her breath.
"I wasn't using code," Jamia says, pretty bravely, she thinks.
"You're also not saying no," Lindsey says, her nose brushing Jamia's hair. Lindsey's hands slide up Jamia's arms, and Jamia doesn't move.
"You're being ridiculous," Jamia says, though she thinks she's not the only one. Lindsey breathes out just under her jaw, her breath tickling her neck where Jamia really wants Lindsey's mouth to move next.
"So you're not interested?" Lindsay says, but she already has her fingers sliding up Jamia's thigh.
"Oh, no, absolutely not interested," Jamia laughs. "Besides, this is the last thing I wanted, to be like Frank."
"Now you're the one talking about Frank," Lindsey says, resting a hand over Jamia's knee.
"You're the one who brought him up!" Jamia protests, but her breath catches. "I didn't really want to be someone who had a thing for my boss."
"It seems to be something that's going around," Lindsey says, smoothing her open palm over the buttons of Jamia's vest. "Maybe we should call a sorcerer, if you're worried."
"No, it's," Jamia says, and hisses out a breath, "It's something I can make peace with."
"Good," Lindsey says, and she flicks the first two buttons of Jamia's vest open.
"So, do you want to go and get a drink?" Jamia asks.
"No," Lindsey says, but she's smiling.
"OK," Jamia says. "Coffee? Have you had dinner?"
"Jamia," Lindsey says. She flicks open the last button on Jamia's vest and it swings open, revealing the pleats of her shirt. "What makes you think I have the patience for dinner or a drink?"
"But we should talk - "
"No," Lindsay says, and she leans close and kisses Jamia, and her mouth is so hot, so soft that Jamia gasps and Lindsey kisses deeper, Lindsey's fingers brushing down the lapels of her shirt, her fingers slipping under the collar to find skin.
"Lindsey," Jamia gasps as Lindsey breaks the kiss to lick Jamia's neck, opening several buttons of her shirt. "Lindsey, be sensible," Jamia says.
"I will not be sensible," Lindsey murmurs, and she's urging Jamia backwards until she ends up sitting on the desk. She hears a paper crumple under her, but then Lindsey is sliding a hand up the exposed skin of her stomach as her shirt catches and rides up around her ribs.
"We're in your office," Jamia says, as Lindsey bends and licks her neck again, scraping her teeth gently against her pulse point. "Someone could - "
"No one's going to interrupt us," Lindsey says, and it's so close to her ear that Jamia has to close her eyes. "Relax," Lindsey says, nuzzling her cheek, "and let me touch you like I've been thinking about doing forever."
"I'm relaxed," Jamia says, but her voice hiccups and her eyes are still closed.
"No, you're not," Lindsey says. "You're tolerating it when I do this," Lindsey says, and licks Jamia's collarbone. Jamia gasps. "And this," Lindsey says, as she unfastens another button on her shirt, exposing the slope of her breasts. "I could be asking you to take dictation for all you're participating."
"I'm on your desk," Jamia says, "How can I possibly relax - "
"You're quite a puzzle," Lindsey says, like she's not even listening to Jamia's very reasonable protest. She strokes her fingers down over her breasts, stopping at the material of her bra. Jamia bites her lip. "How long have I known you? How long have we been flirting? And I still don't know what to do to get you to let go."
"Not feeling me up on your desk on your desk might help," Jamia says, and it's true, she's trying to stay very still, as if, without encouragement, Lindsey will stop and they can get coffee and talk about this reasonably, around some other kind of furniture than the Governor's desk.
"But this is exactly where I want you," Lindsey says, and Jamia makes a noise that she can't help, and she feels Lindsey smile against her chest. "Are you telling me you haven't thought about this?" She says, as she brushes her lips, not kissing, just... touching, bare and soft and so tantalizing, across Jamia's skin. "And now, here I am, with my mouth so close to where you want it," Lindsey says, and it's true, it's true, if she moved just so, she'd have her mouth on Jamia's nipple through the fabric, and maybe she'd bite it, and the warm heat of her mouth could soak through her shirt and - "Ask me for it," Lindsey says, and Jamia goes tense, breathes in sharply, tries to get ahold of herself.
"If we go upstairs," Jamia says.
"Here," Lindsey says.
"If you could just wait until we were - "
"Here," Lindsey says, and there's almost a growl in her voice. Her hands are skating all over Jamia's chest, everywhere but where she wants them. "Here, in my office, where you're always looking over me, where you tried to break in, where we were attacked by a crazed werewolf. Here," she says, with finality Jamia can't ignore.
"Please," Jamia says, her head tilted back, Lindsey so close she's forgetting she's on the desk in her office, she just wants, she just needs "Please, touch me, Lin, please - "
Lindsey obliges immediately, her mouth on Jamia's right nipple and her hand pinching the other, and Jamia's body bows, she hears several pens go skittering off the desk and hit the floor.
"Yes," Lindsey says, opening Jamia's shirt entirely, brushing it away from her chest, and her mouth tracing Jamia's ribs, the straps of her bra. "Yes, there we go," she says, stepping closer so she can stand in between Jamia's legs, which seem obscenely spread now, even though her pants are still on. Lindsey rocks her thighs forward, pressing up between Jamia's legs, leans down and drapes herself across Jamia's chest. "You don't want me to stop, do you? Now that we've dropped all pretense, you like this, don't you?"
"Like you," Jamia gasps.
"Yes, but you like that I can't keep my hands off you," Lindsey says.
"Of course I do," Jamia gasps, as Lindsey cups her breasts in both hands. "Why do you think I've been ignoring you for so long? I knew this would happen."
"You knew this," Lindsey says, biting Jamia's lip, rocking her hips forward, "would happen? This, right here? You, spread out on my desk?"
"Of course," Jamia says. "You and this desk," but then Lindsey is kissing her, Lindsey's hair tickling her face and Jamia loses herself in Lindsey's touch, trying to remember how to give in to this thing she's been resisting for so long.
Her skin's flushed, hot everywhere, and she thinks Lindsey might not even need to get her pants off to make her come, but Lindsey's already undoing them, nipping at Jamia's lips.
"Really,we could at least go upstairs for - " she says, but then Lindsey grins widely at her and slides her fingers over the outside of her underwear, finding the damp spot and pressing down and Jamia groans.
"What was that?" Lindsey asks, stroking her fingers gently side to side, not enough pressure, not nearly enough, and she knows it. Jamia shifts under her, trying to get more, to get her fingers to press just right. Lindsey leans down and mock-whispers, "You want me to stop so we can go upstairs?"
"I just meant - " Jamia says, and Lindsey moves her hand, slides her fingers inside Jamia's underwear, stroking up over her clit. Jamia moans, her legs squeezing tight around Lindsey's thighs.
"What did you mean, sweetie?" she says, and when Jamia opens her eyes, Lindsey's grinning again.
"Please," is all Jamia can manage, because Lindsey's now stroking over her clit with two fingers, leaning down to suck on Jamia's neck, pushing aside the cup of her bra to suck on her nipple, and it goes straight to where Lindsey's fingers are, this feedback loop that's making Jamia arch her back and moan with each breath.
"You want my fingers inside you?" Lindsey asks quietly and it's an actual question, not Lindsey's defiant tone from earlier. "Would you like that?" she asks, and Jamia nods.
"Fuck, yes," she says, as Lindsey pushes inside, and Jamia shoves back on the desk, sending more papers falling, bending her knee to get her heel on the desk, and Lindsey groans, slides her other hand up the back of Jamia's thigh.
"You feel so good," Lindsey's murmuring, as she strokes inside of Jamia, and her voice does something to tip Jamia over into letting the sensations overwhelming her, because the next thing she knows, she's stopping holding her hands in tight fists, and instead she's grabbing Lindsey's shoulders, clutching at her back, pulling her close so she can kiss the hell out of her, burying her hands in Lindsey's hair, thrusting up to meet her fingers stroking her clit in perfect, even strokes.
She pants against Lindsey's mouth and Lindsey says "So hot," and then, "Can I taste you?" and Jamia cries out, and Lindsey's getting down on her knees, face between Jamia's spread legs and before Jamia can prepare herself, before she can even take a deep breath, Lindsey's mouth is on her clit. Jamia's arching against her, up to meet her, Lindsey's fingers still curling inside of her, and Jamia can hear the soft, wet sounds of Lindsey getting her off, and she's on her desk, the Governor's desk, Lindsey is making small, pleased noises, and her other hand is stroking over Jamia's ankle, over her foot, and it almost tickles and Jamia flexes her toes and then that's it, that's just what she needs, and she's coming against Lindsey's mouth, around her fingers, head arching back on the desk, stomach tight and fingers trembling where she realizes she's tugging at Lindsey's hair.
"Oh, god," Lindsey says, her voice low, kissing up the inside of Jamia's thigh as Jamia catches her breath. "I'll never be able to get any work done here again."
Jamia laughs, feeling incredibly warm, and Lindsey laughs with her, and then stands, smoothing her hands down her shirt.
"Now we can go upstairs," Lindsey says. She's grinning at Jamia, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks flushed. "If you're interested."
"I think I might be," Jamia says.