A Gentleman's Dare

Abbie should know better than to dare Crane. If there were any adjective one could use for him, it would be determined.

It started the night before. They hooked up again—Abbie had lost count at this point—and afterward, Abbie flopped over onto her back, panting.

"Nice work, Crane," she said through breaths.

He raised an eyebrow. Oh God, she loved his stupid eyebrows. "'Nice work?'" he repeated. "And you came at least three times if I recall—"

She always kissed him to shut him up. She may have come a fourth time as a result.

When they were really done, boneless, limp, melting into the mattress, exhaustion weighing them down, Abbie was almost asleep when Crane started talking.

"I do truly enjoy our time together, Miss Mills."

Abbie flipped over onto her side to face him, her eyebrows raised now. "Miss Mills? Are you serious right now?"

His long fingers stroked her hair, down her face, along her jaw line. "Mmm, indeed."

"We just fucked each other's brains out and you're calling me Miss?"

He kissed her. "Language," he murmured. His tongue traced her lips.

Abbie sat up, away from the reach of his hands and mouth. "Are you always so oddly proper in bed?"

Crane just smiled. His eyelids were drooping. "Is what we just did something that you'd call proper?"

Abbie snorted. "Don't talk in riddles. Why call me that if you weren't trying to be polite? And in the weirdest possible place?"

Flipping over onto his back, Crane just sighed. "For what reason are we quarreling now?"

Abbie slid back down into bed and snuggled close. "No reason. Just wondering if you can have sex without being a gentleman. I mean, have you ever done it outside of a bedroom?"

Crane wouldn't look at her now. "Of course I have, Abbie."

"You have not!" Abbie wagged a finger in his face. "Have you ever done it during the day?" Abbie sat up again. Crane wouldn't look at her. "You mean to tell me you never even had sex in a carriage? That's all people do in romance novels!"

Now he looked at her. "In a carriage? And what are these romance novels that spread such lies? Do you know how uncomfortable carriages are—"

"Don't care. Now I'm on a mission to pop your non-bedroom cherry."

Crane pulled her back down into the bed and loomed over her. "That's vulgar." He kissed her until Abbie almost forgot her mission. She noticed he loved to kiss her after she swore (which meant he kissed her often).

After a few moments, and some heavy breathing, Abbie said, "I bet you can't do it."

Crane licked her collarbone. "And what is that?"

"Have sex with me—seduce me—in a public place. You're too chicken to do it."

Crane stilled. Then he looked up at her with those eyes—ugh, she loved his eyes like she loved his eyebrows—and replied, "Are you daring me, Miss Mills?"

Abbie refused to show fear. "Sure, yeah. I dare you to fuck me outside of a bedroom, Crane."

Crane stared at her, and Abbie noticed spots of color forming on his cheeks. "I accept your dare," he said softly, slowly.

And then he kissed her so hard Abbie saw stars.

Abbie waited on pins-and-needles the next few days for Crane to make his move—at the grocery store, at the mall, at goddamn Starbucks—but nothing. Sometimes she saw him look at her…differently. Sometimes she felt the lightest brushes of his fingers on the back of her neck, but when she turned he was engrossed in something else.

She felt a little like she was being hunted.

And oh, how she hated to admit she enjoyed it.

She wondered if this was what seduction really meant. Because if so, fuck, it was working. They hadn't had sex since she dared him. And she was dying. She was a little embarrassed how much she enjoyed sleeping with him.

The first time they'd hooked up, it had been tentative for both. He, a (sort of) widower who hadn't had sex in over 250 years, and Abbie, who hadn't had sex since Luke and was stupidly anxious she would fuck everything up. But after a few more times, they began to trust each other, not just as comrades, but as lovers. And thankfully, sex hadn't really changed since the 18th century (and yes, Crane knew what condoms were, Abbie was thankful to discover.)

But now… Christ, if Crane didn't get a move on it, she'd just jump his bones in the middle of the station. With Irving watching.

It was Friday morning. Abbie was at her desk, working on finishing paperwork for a drug bust that had happened over the weekend. Yawning, she reached for her cup of coffee only to have her hand taken in someone's.

"Crane." She looked up—she always had to look up at him, the tall asshole—and noticed he seemed unusually…intense. Well, Crane was usually intense. But this seemed like more than usual. His eyes seemed bluer. How could his eyes be bluer? Jesus, Abbie, get a grip.

"Lieutenant," Crane said softly. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. She swore she might have even felt his tongue. "Good morning."

Glancing around, Abbie saw that no one was watching. Their relationship wasn't secret, but she also wasn't much for PDA (okay, yes, she realized the irony). "Good morning," she replied slowly. He still hadn't let go of her hand. "Sleep okay?"

He stroked her knuckles—slowly, back and forth, back and forth. Then his thumb stroked her palm and Jesus, Abbie felt her stomach tighten. "Not particularly."

"Oh?" Now his fingers encircled her wrist and he was just stroking, stroking.

"No, I found myself distracted."

He brought her hand again to his mouth and he bit her thumb. Bit her!

"Distracted by what, exactly?" She would not show how much she wanted him.

He leaned in to her, his lips against her ear. "Why, distracted that I wasn't fucking you, Abbie." His breath was hot.

Abbie almost burst into flames. The combination of the word plus his stupid accent and the fact that he never swore (in front of her, she knew he had to swear sometimes)…she just about leapt up and jumped him.

But he pulled back before she could react. "Have a pleasant morning," he said simply. And then he walked away.

He did this all fucking morning. Teasing her, touching her, just talking to her. But he slithered away every time she tried to catch him, to the point she was about to go to the hardware store and buy a fucking net—

"Lieutenant."

Abbie jumped. She glared up at Crane.

"What?" Her manners had disintegrated as the day had progressed. Crane smirked a little because goddamn him, he knew.

"Will you aid me in a particular endeavor?"

Abbie sighed. "Yeah, sure, one sec." She locked her computer and slid her phone in her back pocket. "What do you need?"

"Just follow me." He led her out of the main office and into the hallway. Despite it being a Friday afternoon, the station seemed to be swarming with cops. Never a slow day in Sleepy Hollow.

Crane led her down the hall until they reached Irving's office.

"Crane, what are you—"

He opened the door—how was it unlocked?—and pulled Abbie in. He closed the shades on the windows before he pushed her up against the wall and kissed her. He tilted her head back and he kissed her like a man obsessed.

It wasn't until Crane started kissing her neck that Abbie hissed, "What the fuck are you doing? This is Irving's office!"

Crane just raised his brows. "He's in a meeting for the next thirty minutes," he replied.

Abbie tried to push him away but he pinched her nipple in punishment. Oh my God. "When I said fuck me in public I didn't mean in our boss's office." She said this through panting breaths. She shook she was so turned on. She had been wanting him to touch her for days now and he finally was and it was so amazing it hurt.

"One recommendation, Abbie." Crane went down on his knees and pulled off her boots and then her pants. He tossed them both aside. "Never dare me." And then he looked up at her as he pulled her underwear down to her ankles.

Abbie squeaked. Yes, squeaked. And when he began kissing up calf, her foot now resting on his shoulder, she couldn't find the strength to care.

"Oh God, Crane, Crane, Crane, Ichabod—"

He nipped at her leg. "Shhh, Abbie. Someone will hear." His beard brushed her skin, which felt like it was turned up to the nth degree. She felt everything—his hand on her ankle, his mouth on her thigh, the brush of his beard on her skin, the warmth of his breath, and all she could do was cover her mouth with her own hand and try not to scream.

And the asshole took his time getting to his destination.

When he finally parted her, she thought she was going to fall down at his feet. But no, she couldn't, she had to feel everything, and his tongue was tracing her so lightly. Around one fold, around the other. She groaned against her hand over her mouth.

"Crane, I hate you so much right now," she said, muffled and choking.

His tongue barely touched her, just lightly licking. His hand stroked her hip like he needed to gentle her.

She was about to tell him to hurry the fuck up when he grabbed her ass, tilted her forward and sucked her clit. Hard. Abbie almost shoved him over with her foot in her surprise. If she weren't about to fucking die, she would've laughed. But then he sucked her clit harder and fucked her with his absurdly long fingers. Oh God his fingers were magic—

She detonated. Boom, explode, wham bam. And she found herself on the floor with Crane, and he was kissing her and she was trembling with aftershocks.

"Goddammit," Abbie just muttered as her body calmed down. "That was spectacular."

Crane looked smug. "Indeed."

Abbie let him kiss her for a few more minutes, letting her sanity return. Her body stopped shaking enough for her to push him onto his back. She began to unbutton his pants and pulled out his dick. "I'm going to get you back so badly for that."

"I am eager to experience this," Crane replied. He tried to sound cool, but Abbie could tell he was as worked up as she was. He usually got pretty incoherent when she touched him.

Abbie reached in the back pocket of her jeans for the condom she'd stashed there (yes, she had been waiting for this all week) and ripped open the packet. She encircled Crane's dick with her fingers before rolling the condom down it. And then she straddled him and impaled herself on him.

Now it was his time to groan.

She fucked him quickly, without finesse but with such sticky, sweaty passion that she had to cover his mouth with her own to keep him quiet. His hands always tensed on her body when he was about to come, and they were gripping her so tightly now that they had to leave a bruise. She soon shuddered in another orgasm and felt him shudder seconds later.

She collapsed on top of him, just trying to catch her breath. He panted in her ear.

"Jesus, Crane, what the fuck," she muttered. She raised her head. "I was not expecting this."

He smiled, a little smug, a little embarrassed. He brushed her hair out of her face. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

She smacked him on the chest. "Do you have to ask?"

He kissed her—sweetly, she had to say. Like she was a treasure he'd only just uncovered. Abbie's heart contracted.

But then he moved her off of him and began to pull on his pants. Abbie sat on the floor, bare-assed, just staring, unable to move or even reach for her own clothes.

He tucked his shirt in, brushed dust off his clothes, and then leaned down to kiss Abbie one last time. "Thank you, Abbie."

Crane walked to the door, casual as you please. Turning back, he added, "Better get dressed before Irving returns." He reached for the knob. "Oh, and Lieutenant?"

Abbie blinked.

"Never dare a gentleman."

And he left.

A/N: I feel like I should ask Jesus!Crane's forgiveness for this.