Back with another story! Since Wednesday night, I have been in pure bliss. [Could that scene have been any hotter?!] Anyway, I wanted to write a continuation from the episode, but decided not to stop there. It's going to span across their relationship and hopefully reach some kind of resolution by the time we reach 'Z'.

Since the 'A' i've written is pretty choppy in the beginning, I needed this prelude to set the scene. So it's short, and to the point, but hopefully a starting section.

Like I said, this is a continuation, so it's set in 2x11. I really hope you guys enjoy this!

He kissed her, like she was the ocean and he wanted to drown. He was forceful and hard, her body aching for him in a depth she never fully appreciated. His kiss ended, tearing his lips from hers and giving her room to breathe.

But all she wanted was to suffocate against him.

She let out a smile before he returned home, the kiss deepening as his body pressed against hers. All she could think of was lost time, the wasted days where she fought against instinct. His had was holding her jaw and his tongue snaked its way into her mouth. Intoxicating.

She tugged his shirt and felt hers untuck. Everything was fast and flustered, a primal need for the touch of his skin overpowering every other feeling in her system.

Her bra was against his chest. She touched his bicep. She could feel his breathing become heavy and his touch quicken. He needed this just as much as she did.

At some point in the undressing and aching, Erin was spun around, and she was pushing against his body into the wood of the doorframe.

His fingertips tangled in her hair and danced on the small of her back, all the while his tongue fighting against hers. He was restless and hungry. And she was desperate.

His fingers against her neck was exhilarating, teasing her pulse to well above the normal rate. Her skin was soft against his calloused hands, and she never wanted him to let go.

Lindsay's hands found his bare sides, gliding against as much skin as she could manage. Then his chest and shoulders and neck, the line of his jaw and the line of hair at the nape of his neck.

When Jay kissed her neck, Erin lost all function. Her entire body curved to him, never wanting him to relinquish the pressure. A moan slipped her lips and she could feel his turn in a smile against her skin. When he pulled back she was about to moan again, out of disheartenment than pleasure, but then his hands were round the backs of her thighs and everything left her mind.

Seconds before he lifted her, there was a brief moment where their breathing synchronised and there was room to respire. She looked at his lips, the flushed pink lips that wars could be started over, and flicked her gaze to his eyes, which were so blue she figured she might drown in them.

And as she gave him a smile of consent, he raised her high enough to let her legs hook round his waist, and carried them both to a new found euphoria.

She wasn't going to call it 'making love'. She wasn't that girl.

And yet if felt cheap to call it sex. Because people had sex every day. She'd had sex, plenty of times. And that certainly wasn't sex.

It was moaning and tugging and biting and holding and giving into every desire she'd had since the first time she met him. It wasn't sex and it wasn't impulsive. It was inevitable.

His chest was still rising and falling in a steep manner, lying on his back with his head turned to the right to look at her. She was on the right side of his bed, turned on her side and looking at him like he'd just given her everything. Maybe because he had.

His eyes were smiling, but she could see the hesitance. As though he was waiting for her to leave at any second. Maybe a part of her was waiting to do the same, too. Because that's what happened wasn't it? You go to a guy's apartment, let your heart beat loud enough for him to hear, and then leave with tousled hair and a kiss-stained neck.

But his bed was warm; too warm for her to leave. And his eyes were too soft for her to walk out. And her heart was too broken already for her to tear herself away from something that had given her the truest sense of happiness she'd had in a while.

So she let her fingertips find their way to his collarbone and trace the lines, her heart fluttering as his whole body seemed to soften at her touch.

Jay took the initiative to reach out his fingers, sliding them between Erin's and dropping their entwined hands to the space between them. His thumb traced the skin up and down in a motion that could've sent her into a hypnotic sleep right then and there.

Somewhere between the thumb strokes, Lindsay leaned over and kissed his throat, then jaw and then the corner of his mouth. Light, soft pecks that probably evaporated the second her lips left his skin. But that didn't matter. She just needed the taste of him. Everywhere.

And then somewhere between the jaw kisses and the thumb strokes, she drifted into a soft, blurry sleep. In Jay Halstead's bed. With Jay Halstead's scent still on her. With Jay Halstead's heart beating just as loud as hers was.

Just as an introduction, I hope it wasn't too much of a fluff-fest. Update should be coming soon, 'A for Afghanistan', anyone?