Chapter Text
It was quite possibly the worst time for roleplay. Jack was deprived of sleep, working from home in the dead of night, and self-conscious about his detecting skills as of late. He was most certainly NOT in the mood to be bothered, and yet as he thumbed through the witness statement in his hands, a knock sounded at the bedroom door.
Jack had made himself at home in Phryne's room at Wardlow after she'd designed an area for a desk and work space he could appreciate. Phryne insisted on it being IN the bedroom so she could feel free to distract him from time-to-time. Jack knew, but didn't exactly mind.
"Knock knock," Phryne said from the other side of the door, confusing Jack because he'd left it open.
Confused, he called to her: "Come on in."
"Open up," Phryne said in a tone of voice that made Jack want to laugh. Why did she sound so authoritative about it?
Sighing with exhaustion, he reluctantly lifted from his seat and crossed the room to the door. When he opened it, his jaw dropped.
"Where ... on earth did you-"
"I'm here about a missing item," she said with only the most subtle of smiles. Jack was frozen, staring at an outfit he could only imagine she had custom made. It was a police uniform with a skirt and blazer he didn't recognize. Leave it to Phryne Fisher to sass up a government uniform.
"Jesus, Phryne ..."
"It's Miss Fisher to you," she said with sass, propping her hands up on her hips. "And may I come in?"
Jack poked his head out to see that no one was out and about on the second floor. Thankful of the privacy but still worried others might overhear whatever she was going to say next, he insisted on it - pulling her in by the arm.
"What in God's name ..." he started, checking out her outfit from her heels to the hat. "Where did you find the time for this ...?"
"I'll be the one asking the questions," she said so dominantly, Jack simply watched her move across the room to take his chair and turn it so the back of the chair sat flush against the edge of his desk. "Sit."
Jack almost wanted to laugh. He had certainly fantasized about her interrogating him, but he'd never imagined it quite so decisive. Was that the right word?
"I said ... sit." The emphasis of the last word gave Jack unexpected chills. The look in her eyes surprised him, and he closed and locked the door at the promise it held.
"And what did I supposedly do?" he asked, trying to imagine how he might play along. Apparently he was going to be a defiant suspect. He put his hands on his hips as he crossed the room to stand in front of her.
"A very valuable item was stolen from a woman's wardrobe, and you're suspected," Phryne said with an impressive lack of humor. "So sit down - for the last time - or I'll put you in that chair myself."
Jack crossed his arms, letting out a simple beat of laughter: "I'd like to see you try that, Miss Fisher."
What started as a playful wrestling session ended somewhat confusingly with Jack's hands tied behind his back. He was still laughing when she was panting with her knee in his back, letting out a very real laugh. "Where did you learn proper police technique for apprehending?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," she whispered - lying flat on top of him for a single moment so erotic, Jack was brought back to the idea of his fantasy. He imagined Phryne spread on top of him, and moaned.
"How exactly do you plan on getting me in that chair?" he whispered back, planning to make things as difficult for her as possible. For some reason, the comedy of the situation aroused him almost as much as her whispered breath on his ear.
"If I have to drag you there, I will."
Jack chuckled, and tested the - rope, was it? - tying his hands together. Damn, she was good with a knot.
"But if you come willingly ..." Phryne teased, massaging her hands into his shoulders through the crisp white collared shirt he wore. "I might just make things easier for you."
"How easy will you be?" Jack smirked, earning a smack to his arm as he laughed helplessly. "What?"
"Drag you it is, I guess," she sighed, surprising Jack when she flipped him, tucked her hands under his arms and started pulling him over to the desk. When she had dropped him into the chair, they both were smiling.
"Quite the arduous effort all for a shirt, isn't it?" he taunted with as much sass as she had on any given day, showing just what he'd learned from her.
Phryne, in kind, delivered her knowledge of a stoic interviewer with one hand pinning his shoulder to the back of the chair. "That shirt has value," she started, finally content that she could begin with her real plan. "And I intend to return it to its rightful owner as soon as you tell me where it is."
"And ... how do you plan on getting that information?" he breathed, suddenly very affected by the powerful way she stood over him. By the power behind her eyes.
"I've learned a thing or two," she implied, dropping her eyes to his lap.
"Phryne, don't you dare," he pleaded, wanting just that. He wanted her to use him for information. He wanted her to torture him into giving up what he knew. He wanted it so badly that his breathing quickened when she swung her leg over him and sat across his knees.
"Don't what?" she smirked at last, tossing the hat onto the bed across the room - shaking her hair loose and unbuttoning the top of her uniform. "Don't ... ask you nicely?"
"Jesus, Phryne ..."
He looked down and saw the skirt that had rested at her knees was bunched up at her thighs. He swallowed hard and dropped his head back to close his eyes. He could stay strong. He was sure he could. He just needed to focus. If he caved that easily, he knew she'd never quit teasing him for it. Just five minutes, he told himself. Last for five minutes.
"You know, I always wanted to do this to you, Jack ..." she whispered, sliding a little closer in his lap with her hands on his chest.
It was almost too much, hearing her heated confession in his ear. He focused on slow breathing only to feel her fingers unbuttoning his shirt.
"I didn't know if you'd really enjoy it ..." Phryne continued, dipping her lips close enough just to linger over his shoulder. His neck. "I didn't know if you'd like to be teased mercilessly ... but it appears ... that you do."
"Not the merciless part," he moaned, squirming underneath her. He raised his knees and squirmed until she fell directly into his lap, humming pleasantly in his ear.
"What's the matter? Can't handle giving up the control, Jack ...?"
He could feel that her skirt had ridden up to her hips, and he throbbed at the thought of what she'd worn underneath. He suddenly cursed his lack of curiosity while they were rolling around on the floor. He'd been too busy trying to be difficult to notice.
"I just don't enjoy being tortured," he answered in a way that assured Phryne of just the opposite. She realized just how much he was enjoying the lack of pleasure.
"You don't?" she teased, moving herself back onto his knees to see his eyes snap open with confusion. She traced her finger over his lips, and trailed it down to the belt of his pants. She played distractedly with the buckle. "Well, you're only torturing yourself ... you see, I need the location of that shirt ..."
"It's in the drawer in my desk," he confessed all in one breath, tingles shooting through him as he looked down to see she hadn't worn anything underneath that skirt.
Phryne removed her hands from his belt and chuckled when he let out a little whimper. "So quick to give in, Jack ...? I wouldn't have thought. A strong man like you ... giving in so easily?"
"Just ... come closer ..." he asked desperately, tugging more seriously at his arms as Phryne enjoyed the mess she'd made of him so quickly.
"You'll have to practice that sense of control," Phryne teased, realizing as she thought back that he had always rather enjoyed her more dominant positions on top of him. She eased herself off of his lap, and gestured over to the bed. "If you want this interrogation to continue, you'll get yourself onto that bed."
He didn't have to be asked twice.
To be continued ...