Title: Interrogation Techniques

Pairing: Brenda/Irene

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. But if I did, The Closer would air on HBO.

A/N: This was written in response to a prompt: The Closer Brenda/Irene, interrogation. Smutty goodness abounds. Give me your feedback.

"I know you're planning something, Detective Daniels." Brenda Leigh Johnson said in the clipped tone she reserved for professional occasions. "I know that behind that sweet smile of yours, a devious mind is at work."

Irene glanced up from the morning paper she had spread out on the table in front of her, cocked her head to the side innocently. "What are you talking about, Brenda?" She allowed the slightest of smiles to dance on her lips, knowing that it would drive her lover insane.

"See?" Brenda set down her toast with a flourish of frustration. "See? That's exactly what I'm talking about." Abruptly, she changed tacks and reached across the table, laying her hand gently on Irene's. "Honey, you know how I hate surprises."

Studying the hand cupping hers for a moment, Irene licked her lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about, honey." She maintained a studiously innocent expression, but drew each word out coyly to let Brenda know she knew precisely what she was talking about.

Pursing her lips, Brenda narrowed her scrutinizing dark gaze on Irene, as if mentally making a decision. When her lover looked at her like that, it caused Irene's heart to flutter and her stomach to knot. It was the same predatory gaze she used in the interrogation room, but when it was aimed on Irene it had a much different focus altogether. "Detective Daniels, I strongly urge you to disclose any information you might be withholding from me."

With a measure of bravado, Irene grinned into her seriousness. "You're interrogation techniques won't work on me, Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson."

"Is that so?" Brenda slowly stood, abandoning her breakfast in favor of rounding the small table to where Irene was seated. For a long moment, she simply stood behind her, causing a tremor of anticipation to course through Irene unbidden. Without warning she leaned down over her shoulder and crushed their lips together.

Irene closed her eyes, yielded to the roughness of the kiss. When Brenda's tongue swiped her lower lip, demanding entrance, Irene obeyed parting her lips slightly. Irene groaned into the kiss as she felt her lover's hand snake up the back of her neck, fist into the hair of the back of her neck. Irene loved it when Brenda took control like this.

With a firm but not painful tug, Brenda pulled her to her feet and spun her around so that the two women faced one another. Hand still wound in her lover's hair, Brenda jerked her head back so that Irene's neck was fully exposed, vulnerable. She laid a whispering trail of kisses from her ear to the hollow of her neck, then back up again. Her lips were so close they grazed Irene's ear as she whispered, "Tell me, Irene."

By this time, Irene was breathing in short, rapid gasps. She could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck, right where Brenda had kissed. Wetness had begun to gather in between her legs, and she was helpless to speak. So she merely shook her head frantically, determined to resist the older woman's advances.

"Have it your way, detective." Brenda crooned in her ear before releasing her grip on Irene's hair, her hands reaching under the hem of her shirt. "But the longer you hold out, the longer this interrogation is going to last." Soft, slender hands traveled up Irene's sides to cup her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples through the slight fabric of her bra.

Irene gasped at the contact, and leaned against the table behind her for support. "Don't," She groaned involuntarily as Brenda's nimble fingers pushed the bra up, pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger. Swallowing hard, she tried again. "Don't I have the right to an attorney?"

"Why?" Arousal thickened Brenda's already sultry Southern drawl. "Do you need one, detective?" Her hands abandoned their teasing attention to Irene's breasts and drifted down again. "Why don't you just tell me?" She began unbuckling Irene's belt with an agonizingly slowness.

Biting down on her lower lip hard, Irene shook her head again. Her lover was making her so wet, it was hard to stand, let alone think. She wanted Brenda's fingers inside her, thrusting but in order for that to happen she would have to confess. Having her so close but so damnably far away only fueled the desperate need Irene felt, the ache of want becoming almost painful.

The trained interrogator must have sensed Irene's dilemma, because she finished unbuckling her belt and dipped her hand down the front of her slacks, underwear stopping just short of the seat of her need. "All you have to do is tell me, lover." Leaning forward, she nipped and licked the skin of Irene's neck for encouragement.

"But…" Irene breathed, thrusting her hips forward trying to urge her hand, fingers down where she needed to feel them.

"But nothing, Detective Daniels." She stretched her hand, the tip of her middle finger brushing Irene's clit. Irene's entire body seized and jerked at the contact, but as soon as her finger was there, it was gone, retreating back to a torturously close distance. "Tell me what I know and this can stop."

Brenda pressed their bodies together, her hand in between them so close to Irene's wetness. "Tell me and this can stop, I'll give you exactly what you want. I can make you cum, Irene." Her voice was a husky whisper. "I could even bend you over this kitchen table and make you cum from behind. Or I could drop down to my knees and you could feel my tongue on you. Or I could just slip my hand down a little further. Just tell me what I want to know."

The images that rushed through Irene's head were enough to shove her over the edge. "Fuck me, please, Brenda, please." She begged, abandoning all sense of decorum without caring. She just needed to feel her lover inside her, taste her.

But the older woman was patient. "Then tell me."

Irene licked her lips. "I booked a cabin, outside the city, for this weekend. Just you and me, alone. I also made reservations for a restaurant not far from the cabin, not too fancy, but…" Irene said in a babbling rush, moaning as she felt Brenda's fingers move. "It's our first anniversary and I want it to be just us, loving one another, being with one another."

That seemed to appease her lover because she entered Irene abruptly with two fingers, her thumb circling her clit without restraint. "You are so wet, my love." Brenda groaned into her mouth, kissing her while her hand continued its furious ministrations.

Already wild with passion, it did not take long for Irene to reach the crest of orgasm. She ground herself against Brenda's hand, wanting to feel more of her, harder. She felt her body tense, her body stilling just as she was about to descend in the unrelenting wave of her orgasm.

And Brenda abruptly removed her hand, stepped back.

Irene was sure she was going to collapse, that her knees would give out and she would crumple to the floor. She cried out at the loss of contact, leaned heavily on the table to support her. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she whimpered at the smug smile playing upon Brenda's lips.

"Come on," Brenda said, as if she hadn't been fucking her lover mere seconds before. She reached over Irene's still trembling form and picked her purse off the table. "We're going to be late for work."

Mind still reeling, Irene managed to straighten and glared at her lover. "You said if I told you, you would make me…" She trailed off, unable to say it. Her panties were sopping wet, and her entire body quivered with a need that had ceased to be an ache and was now a burning torture. She had been so close to orgasm, every cell in her body screamed its protest against the denial.

Smiling sweetly, Brenda touched the tip of her fingers to Irene's chin, lifting her face to kiss her slow and sensuously. "Don't you know, darlin'" She asked as she withdrew, her accent sickeningly sweet. "That the police are allowed to lie during the course of an interrogation?"