a/n: I know it's been a while but real life was getting in the way but this, this just needed to be written. Takes place at the beginning of season 2 but one in which Catherine is behind the attack on Juliette out of revenge and Adalind put her efforts into regaining her powers. Its intended, I think, to be four parts, but we'll see how that goes. Let me know your thoughts.

It began…

'Wh-what are you doing?' He smacked at her hand. 'Stop that.'

'You and I are going to have sex,' she repeated, this time she said it slowly like that would somehow make sense of this whole thing. And her fingers, which had been tugging at the buttons of his shirt were now nimbly making quick work of her own.

His hand whipped up to cover his eyes and he growled, 'Hell no.' Of course, with his hand covering his eyes he couldn't actually see if she'd stopped undressing and started to redress so her spread his fingers and took a peek. Which was a terrible idea as she'd in fact finished with her shirt and his peek had been timed perfectly to watch her shirt fall down her arms until she flung it away into the depths of his living room.

'Yes,' she stated firmly, and her hands were back to his shirt and why had he not already just shot her?

'Adalind,' he snapped, this time he didn't bother to gently slap her hands away, he took her by the shoulders (and didn't – DIDN'T. Really – notice how smooth her skin was) and shoved her away from him. It was unfortunate that just pushed her further into his house and away from the open front door that had somehow ended up at his back and, hang on, when exactly had he kicked it closed?

'Nick,' she said, voice slightly mocking, and he did not find that hot. At all. Jesus what was wrong with him and why, why was she starting on the button of her jeans and toeing off her shoes.

'Get out,' he told her but his voice didn't come out as sharp and stern as he was intending and he knew she noticed because she stopped working on her pants to come back to him and he smacked her hands away again but somehow she'd gotten all of the buttons undone and they ended up in a tug of war as she tried to divest him of his shirt and he tried valiantly not to let her.

'You owe me,' she told him, and it was such a ridiculous statement that he stopped fighting her to gape at her and unintentionally gave her the opportunity to go for his belt.

'What?' he demanded, regaining control enough to smack her hand away and try to redo his belt but she somehow got hold of the buckle and pulled and his hips twisted slightly with the movement and his shoving her away only helped her this time because the force gave her enough space and momentum to yank his belt clean out of his jeans, dropping his badge to the floor and his (thankfully empty) holster along with it.

'You stole my power,' she reminded him and suddenly she was up close again and her hands were tugging at the hem of his t-shirt and he found himself lifting his arms under her direction while his mind was trying to work out how stealing her powers gave her the right to come into his house in the middle of the night demanding sex. 'Boots. Off. Now.'

'No. No and still no,' he shot back. She shrugged at him and stepped back, hands going to the waistband of her own jeans and he watched her, eyes trained warily on her hands as they lowered the zipper and started to ease the denim off her hips and down her thighs. She shimmied out of them and the kicked them the rest of the way. He thought they might have landed on the back of the couch but he didn't turn to look because Adalind was standing in his house in her underwear and this was just not a scenario he was prepared to deal with.

Also, this confident display was kind of turning him on.

Adalind knew exactly what she wanted, and she had just walked on into his house shedding clothes and demanding he bend to her will. As if the last time they saw each other he hadn't tried to kill her and forced her to swallow some of his blood in order to save Hank from her crazy love spell.

Distracted, as he was, by the smooth curves and delicate navy blue lace she managed to get close again and this time when her hands went for the button of his jeans his traitorous hands went to her hips and he'd meant to shove her away again but she played dirty, rising up on her toes to kiss the underside of his jaw while her fingers yanked down his zipper.

He didn't tilt his head to giver access and he sure as hell didn't moan. Much.

'What,' he rasped and broke off his question because she'd slipped her hand inside his pants and she was so warm and her mouth was still doing things to the sensitive skin of his neck and it took him a couple of tries to form a coherent thought. 'What does that have to do with anything?'

'Blood,' she told him, her words a sultry pur, 'took my power away. Sex, is going to get it back.'

That probably should have alarmed him more than it did, but he could kind of follow her logic and what with her lips burning a trail down his chest and her hands making quick work of shoving his jeans and underwear out of her way his brain wasn't exactly fully functional.

He did manage to gasp out, 'Why would I want to help you with that?'

And hang on, when did his lips join the party? Because while she tasted amazing, he didn't remember giving them permission to do a little exploration of their own.

She grabbed one of his hands on her hips and it didn't take much effort on her part to have him sliding her underwear down.

'Oh, Nick,' she laughed, 'this is going to be fun.'

And then she somehow managed to hook one of her legs behind his and pulled while she leaned into him and his feet were still in their boots, his jeans and underwear around his knees and so he went down without much protest, back hitting the rug in the hallway with an oomph that almost knocked the air from his lungs but he'd helped her rid herself of her underwear and he was already so hard it was just too easy for her to sink down onto him.

And god damn if she wasn't right. Though he wasn't sure fun quite summed it up.