#ok edit to add to tags since yall found it anyways 🙄

[adelaidedrubman]

look at that, i’m finally posting fic that isn’t just a joke. trying to get back in my groove with a really old kinktober prompt from this list i didn’t get done in time. posting now in the spirit of forcing myself to return to my “do what the fuck you want” era but also genuinely nervous because it’s been so long since i’ve posted anything semi serious let alone smut so queuing for 5 AM on a monday with no tags and hoping nobody actually sees it <3 if you do, keep scrolling

wordcount: 7k

pairing: john x jestiny | pre-reaping au: part iii | part i | part ii | (no need to actually read, pure smut)

warnings: NSFW!!!!!!! oral sex. throat fucking. rimming. inadequate discussion prior to any of these things. all of the aforementioned occurring on a church altar. arguably semi public? (debate of the hour, actually). proceed responsibly.

John knew, of course, that Deputy Rook would be the officer to respond.

For one, because he knew she was on duty, both from the schedule Nancy dutifully provided him at the beginning of every shift and from his own… information collection and personal intervention, which he knew had ultimately resulted in her schedule being shifted so that she was on duty for most of the weekend, only being granted a brief reprieve on Friday evenings (the time she’d given him the most trouble) before ultimately having to report back bright and early on Saturday morning, granted just enough time to sleep before doing the same song and dance on Sunday, finally allowed a “weekend” off on Monday and Tuesday, and…

Well, it’s not that he would ever plan his own life around her schedule, but he was certainly aware of it, as much as he was aware of every other mundane ongoing in the county.

And yes, perhaps even after he knew the necessary evidence should already in place he’d waited (less than twenty four hours) to officially “discover” the crime he was requesting an officer respond to. Not to plan things according to her schedule, of course, but…

But he was well aware that he was finally calling it in when she was the only officer on street duty, with less than an hour left on her shift. And he hoped that meant she’d be eager to finish up business and leave, and be less likely to give him grief about reporting the matter at all. That’s the only reason he stalled on reporting, truly.

He reassured himself of as much as his heart jumped in his chest at the first sound of tires crunching against the gravel road, causing him to leap up from the pew and scurry towards the window to ensure it was in fact a Hope County Police Department cruiser finally popping up over the horizon.

He studied the faint outline of his reflection in the window for a moment as he mentally rehearsed the interaction he’d accounted for (not planned), fluffing his beard and slicking back his hair before making his way to the door, heart giving another offbeat flutter as he confirmed the flash of copper hair visible from the driver’s seat.

“Deputy,” he greeted with a smile as she finally exited the car, leaning casually in the doorway. Her presence did lend the air a certain electric quality. Sure, they’d been together before, and alone. But never in the broad daylight, and so far from any other civilization, removed as Eden’s Convent was from the main roadways. “I’m relieved to see you’re finally here.”

She merely rubbed fingers against obviously tired eyelids, trying to massage away bags before looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. “You wanted something?”

“To report a crime,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You couldn’t have done that at the station like last week?”

“It’s an urgent crime this time,” he lamented, stepping back into the vestibule of the church and waving for her to follow. “And there might be fresh evidence to investigate.”

She let out a long, groaning exhale, massaging her temples for a beat more before strolling up the steps to meet him. “What’s the crime?”

“Trespass.”

“You’re going with trespass again?”

“I’m reporting,” he spat out, sharp and firm, “A trespass, yes. Or anything else you see fit to charge it as.”

“Great,” she said with a roll of her eyes, before letting them fall along the doorway he stood in. “So did they break in here?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t know?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“Of course not.”

“And I haven’t found any evidence of use of force at this door, although we do keep it unlocked, so —”

“So there by definition couldn’t have been, so we should move on to whatever the fuck it is you do want to show me.”

He huffed, giving her an indignant look before waving her on through the greeting room into the main building. “But I noticed footprints,” he said, pointing down to the imprints left in flakes of sawdust atop the red carpeting of the aisle, as he stepped just to the side of it. “And that made me think something was off.”

“Uh huh,” she grunted. “And you caught someone breaking in when, exactly —?”

“I didn’t,” he waved away, continuing on, leading her towards the projector broadcasting onto screens hanging on either side of the main stage. “Until I checked our security camera footage the next day.”

“Okay.”

“And you won’t believe what I saw.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You will,” he agreed with an emphatic nod. “This video was taken at 1:42 AM last night,” he explained, before pressing play.

He looked over his shoulder to confirm her eyes were adequately trained on the screen as she followed him up towards the stage of the church, gaze bouncing between her and the image of three shadowy figures stepping into the hallway he played on screen for her.

“There,” he exclaimed, finally pressing his thumb down on the power off button. “You see?”

“Seems like some folks came into your church late last night,” she scoffed.

“Right,” he nodded again. “And of course I don’t yet have enough evidence to prove it without further investigation, but I highly suspect it was one of the hooligans King’s Hot Springs Hotel just next door is constantly renting rooms to, which the owner would be responsible for under dram shop provisions, which —”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand “So what do you want me to put in the police report, exactly?”

“Well,” he began, enunciating pointedly, “I’m hoping everything I’ve reported.”

“Right,” she agreed, flopping down her hand again. “I can jot down a note somewhere John Seed thinks someone came into his church, but what do you want me to actually report?”

“A trespass,” he hissed back, impatiently.

“I mean,” she deadpanned, eyes still half lidded. “You haven’t shown me anything to report as a trespass, or any other crime, so far.”

“Haven’t shown you —?” he began in disbelief. “Haven’t shown you anything?! Deputy, I am currently showing you —”

“You’re showing me a fuckin’ church, John,” she spat out with a sneer. “If you could show me any evidence of property damage, that’d be one thing, but even if everything you were telling me was true, you cannot fuckin’ trespass upon a goddamn church.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, still slow and measured and ringing with politeness as he paused with thoughtful calm to accentuate the contrast with her belligerent rudeness. He shifted his arms back to press palms against the raised stage of the altar behind him, lifting himself to sit casually at its ledge, smiling to himself as she darted eyes to the side to quickly conceal the way they’d automatically settled at his lap as he propped himself up. “Is your contention that we should be denied equal protection under the law simply because we’re a place of worship? You’re refusing to investigate simply because we’re a church?”

“My contention,” she hissed, hooking thumbs into her belt loops and jutting her chin upward in a pitiful attempt to appear suddenly energized and intimidating as she stepped forward and glared up at him, “is that churches are by definition not covered by the criminal trespass statute.”

He bent at the waist to lean down and meet her challenging glare, flaunting his high ground. “It would be unconstitutional to exclude churches from the protections of the trespass statute. The Free Exercise clause of the —”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ —”

“— of the First Amendment explicitly prohibits excluding from a publicly available protection —”

“— excluded from fuck all, we responded to the fucking call didn’t we —”

“— based purely on the status of religious affiliation —”

“— sure as shit does not prohibit a content neutral definition that happens to exclude your fucking situation, which if you took the time to think through this dumbass plan you’d know is —”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he shouted, pitch still rising with the polite inflection he used the first time even as his volume grew loud enough to echo off the church walls, because for some reason that one tried his patience in earnest. “Are you really qualified to decide I’m exempt from reporting a crime on constitutional grounds? Are they teaching the First Amendment at the Montana Police Academy now? Please, tell me, Deputy, what’s the response code for a violation of our most basic civil liberties?”

She pursed her lips together as she gave him a wide, closed mouth smile that made dimples emerge just as amber eyes narrowed to glare at him, slapping an open palm down on the carpeted floor he sat on to signal she’d lost her patience too.

“They’re teaching it in fuckin’ grade school, John,” she replied in a tone both softer in volume and higher in pitch as it hissed from the back of her throat, with an inflection that seemed designed to imply she really did pity him for not already knowing. “It’s one fucking sentence in a document written over two hundred years ago, even us simple folk have gotten around to —”

“With two hundred years worth of case law! Which I suppose they must have taught you at —”

“Don’t need fuckin’ case law to read the fucking statute, which the Police Academy does teach,” she spat back, forcefully enough for him to feel the heat of her huffing breaths fall against the exposed portions of his chest, making it very difficult for him to resist arching into it, or tugging at her hair to pull her away from him, the vile creature. “Which if you didn’t bother to check, requires the suspect to have entered or remained unlawfully in an occupied structure —”

“Or the premise of another, if you didn’t bother to read on to the second subsection, which apparently you don’t —”

“— says the man who read the Free Exercise Clause before the Establishment Clause, apparently —”

“— and just in case you haven’t checked, this is privately owned property, legally indistinguishable from any other privately owned building —”

“Oh, is it? Then what do you pay in taxes on the place, John?”

“ — completely irrelevant, it’s private property!”

“— that you represent as open to the public,” she replied with a scowl, leaning in closer, puffed out chest nearly touching his abdomen as she stepped forward to stand defiantly between his open and dangling legs. “So I don’t see how someone entering a building open to the public could be guilty of trespassing,” she said with a bored roll of her eyes.

“The same way any privately owned business —”

“So is your fuckin’ contention then,” she sneered, cocking her head with a crinkle of her nose, “that privately owned establishments that open their doors to the public maintain their right to exclude visitors?”

“Of course.”

“Well,” she drawled with a slow roll of her tongue to draw out the ‘L’ sound, tapping a hand atop his knee. “I’m sure Mary May Fairgrave will be thrilled to hear that, because it’s my understanding some jackass has been coming in her bar every Friday night claiming she can’t kick him out because —”

“— would be a violation of the First Amendment to exclude on the basis of religion —”

“— on the basis of you not fucking buying anything, which if you —”

“— and besides that go there during regular business hours, which —”

“— which bars have, on account of bein’ businesses, whereas a fuckin’ church —”

“— would be illegal to treat us differently simply because —”

“— would be illegal to give y’all special treatment and not recognize the differences between —”

“— for special treatment, only asking to be treated exactly the same as —”

“So is your contention then,” she barked loudly enough to echo off the walls in interruption, “that, aside from the fact that Mary May pays her fucking taxes, your church is otherwise, for all intents and purposes, legally indistinguishable from the Spread Eagle?”

“Yes, and entitled to all the same protections.”

“No differences?”

“None de facto, for our purposes.”

She pulled the corners of her mouth down and curled her upper lip, making the indents of dimples sink into her cheeks and the creases of wrinkles scrunch along her little nose, and truly only she could behave atrociously enough to make the sight more infuriating than adorable.

“So I should just ignore that it’s a place of worship, and treat this place…” she paused to wave in gesture, letting her shoulders shrug with a forced mimic of a single huff of laughter, “exactly like I would the Spread Eagle?”

“If that little thought experiment helps you to do your job, then by all means.”

“Alright,” she chirped too pleasantly, pursed lips now curling into a smile, dimples deepening further.

“Alright,” he repeated back.

“Alright,” she agreed again, raising auburn brows.

“Al —” he only managed to spit out the first syllable in repetition, the second swallowed down with a sharp gasp for air as she reached a hand forward to press flush against the front of his jeans, rubbing her palm up and down along the seam with a rush of sudden, shocking friction. “I — Jessie, what the hell are you… Fuck —”

“Per your fuckin’ orders,” she rumbled, a breathy mix between a purr and a growl, “I am treating this place exactly like I would the Spread Eagle,” she explained plainly as she paused the brushing of her hand to grip him tightly, bringing her free hand to the small of his back to scoot him further towards the ledge of the altar and into her touch. “And this is usually the best way to get you to shut up there.”

“For fuck’s sake J — Deputy Rook,” he forced himself to hiss out with biting disapproval, despite the way his hips began to rock forward of their own volition, then jerked sharply upward to chase her touch as she lifted her hand to work at his belt instead. “We are in the middle of…” he trailed off, unable to finish the statement even to himself, digging teeth into his bottom lip as his eyes trailed along the rows of pews.

“We’re on private property, John,” she cooed, honeyed thick with venom, tugging at his waistband with now practiced efficiency to push his pants and briefs down to his ankles. “No real reason to treat it any different, is there?” she taunted, brushing fingers along his thighs and eyes along arousal now fully exposed and undeniable and aching for her touch.

“In fact,” she hummed, bringing the hand to his neckline instead, pulling him down to briefly soothe him with an unusually tender kiss as she turned fingers to the buttons of his shirt, “we’re on your private property, outside of open hours,” she added in a warm pant against his lips as she parted, undoing the final button of his shirt before shoving a hand against his now bare chest to push him down to lay flat atop the platform then sliding the fingers along his sides, back down to the legs she settled between. “I think we could even get a little crazier than we do there, don’t you?”

And with that her lips found the head of his cock with the same undelayed swoop downward that her hands found the tops of his thighs in, pinning them down flat to keep him in place as she dipped her head to take him in her mouth, restraining him from fully arching into the delicious sensation.

Fuck, he cursed internally as she slid pursed lips back up just as quickly, leaving a pleasured shiver of skin crying out for more in her wake.

But god, was sucking his cock really what qualified as ‘getting crazy’ to her, though? He might have misjudged just how adventurous the little devil was. It could have easily been called vanilla if it not lent a certain novelty by their particular location (which was a distressing drawback to him, of course, something to push out of his mind to enjoy himself). And, well — the fact that their ledgers on head given were notably unbalance thus far, and of all the sinful things they had done it was the first time he was feeling the warm plush of her mouth around him.

And fuck, the fact that she was fucking good at it, he admitted to himself with a quick little spasm of his spine, hips bucking upward and a hand shooting out to grasp at the back of her neck, tugging with restless frustration along the stray baby hairs falling from that damned tight twisted braid she always seemed to wear on duty, wishing desperately he had a full loose mane to pull a proper fistful of.

Instead, he was forced to simply settle for brushing fingers up the base of her skull, slipping beneath the beginning pleats of her braid to thread between taut strands and press downward in eager encouragement for her to keep going.

And she responded to his touch with her own little show of encouragement, shifting the hands pinning his thighs down to bring one up to press against the base of his pelvis, causing the pressure already flooding him there to shoot a quick, dizzying bolt of electricity through his length, making him twitch rigid in her mouth. She slid the other hand towards the center to massage along his inner thigh with a contrasting gentle, almost teasing caress.

But no amount of gentleness could stop him from thrusting his hips up freely now that he was allowed the purchase to do so, almost ashamed at how quickly he shed any hesitance brought by their location to fuck freely into the slick pressure of her mouth and tight grip of her hand now wrapping around the base of his cock.

He tossed his head back against the floorboards in full surrender to it, bucking more frantically as she egged him on with equal parts roughness and gentleness; the tight pumping of her fist at his base and the sweet stroking of her fingers up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh reassuring him that she could take every little thrust.

Although he was quickly losing the ability to restrain himself, anyways, as ecstatic pressure seemed to build from every source. As the bobbing of her head to slide the warm pressure of full, pursed lips and flexing tongue down his length kept picking up speed. And the grip of the hand pumping along the expanse of length she couldn’t swallow clenched ever tighter.

And the hand brushing along his inner thigh kept creeping up and up and up, until he had to spread his legs wider just to accommodate the gentle, teasing fingertips along their path, and were then tickling along the creases at their top and still inching further, and — was she — ?

He swallowed and gasped, throat suddenly dry with the realization. They’d reached just past even, and he could no longer deny understanding of the meaning of the way they danced along the soft skin of his inner cheeks now, asking silent permission, daring interruption of their clear path.

An interruption he simply couldn’t bring himself to make when the thrilling shiver each brush of fingertips sent up his spine grew stronger and more focused the closer she came to his center. Until the shiver was finally a jolt that made his arched spine stiffen straight as she finally brushed along the sensitive rim at the crevice she spent so long teasing, and he shot up to his elbows at the sensation.

“J-Jessie,” he whimpered out in pleading, without being able to focus lust flurried mind on exactly what he was pleading for.

Her only immediate answer was the sudden upward flick of tawny eyes to train directly on him as she swallowed him yet again, gaze trailing along the quiver his bottom lip gave in response to the ghosting brush of her thumb along his hole.

“Jessie, please,” he panted out a little more desperately, willing himself to really mean it as a signal to pause this time.

John forced himself to break from her stare and focus eyes blurred from being squeezed shut tight to the point of watering on the rows of pews behind her, dart from the arched windows and aisles of red carpeting that served as visual evidence of just where they were. God, it was bad enough he’d been weak and at the mercy of sin enough to let her go down on him here — to even get aroused at her devilish tricks in the first place, for that matter. To add to that actually finishing here, and like that… “Fuck Jessie, we’re still — we’re still in —”

He still couldn’t manage to finish the thought before she jerked her head upward and let him fall from her mouth with a soft, wet pop of those now swollen lips. She let her fist loosen from around his base as well, while the hand between his legs stayed stubbornly in place, caressing teasingly just outside his rim.

Before he could even bother to choke out words again she rose to stand, now leaning over him in his place still half reclined and splayed out atop the altar for her, free hand moving to caress back and forth along the ridge of his hip bone as the thumb of the other finally pressed flush against the puckered muscles they’d been teasing the edge of.

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, huh?” she rasped with doe eyes wide in focus on his lap as if to show clearly that she’d seen the shameful, needy little twitch his cock gave in response to pressure against his hole even without hardness itself being touched.

“Jessie,” he whined out uselessly yet again, completely paralyzed between asking her to stop out of shame and staving off the worse torture of losing her touch.

“John?” she rumbled hoarsely, her soprano particularly gravelly in the afterglow of his fucking her throat.

“Will you just fucking —” the words caught in the dried and sore flesh of his own throat to stick there painfully as she continued. He thrust grasping hands out to wrap around her arms just above the crook of her elbows and pull himself more upright, look into her face more directly.

“Let’s finish this at my place,” he offered, best compromise he could think of, even though the mere ten minute wait of the car ride even felt intolerable to him at this point, badly as he needed her. “Take me home, if you’re inclined to touch me like that,” he reasoned, knitting brows upward in pleading. “We’ll actually have what we need there, to do it properly and — fuck,” he gasped as she gave another quick brush along wrinkled skin, biting into his lower lip before continuing. “And could take our time, and wouldn’t —” And wouldn’t be in the building he was entrusted with keeping holy. “And not have to rush. Come on, we can forget the police report, if you’ll just take me home now.”

But the soft smile that spread along plumped lips seemed more smug than acquiescing, pulling slightly crooked to one side. “You’d forget this entire little stunt of yours just to get my fingers in you?”

“Yes,” he sighed, feeling creeping shame at how easily he made the concession, but not as much as he was sure he’d feel letting her continue sucking him off and playing with his asshole on a fucking church altar. “You can do whatever you like to me, if you just leave with me now.”

He felt briefly hopeful with the sprawling flush of pink creeping along her cheeks at the promise.

Before she clicked her tongue against her teeth and shook her head in the negative, finally removing the hand from between his legs and shifting arms up to press forearms against his, holding him by the elbows.

“Sorry, baby. I’m still on the clock whether you’re done making up fake crimes for me or not,” she whispered with a devastatingly chaste kiss to the sweat slickened skin of his forehead, gripping his arms to guide him back flat again. “But I’ll still take care of you best I can,” she added, trailing those same butterfly kisses down his torso, along the bones of his hips before finally gripping the base of his cock again.

And she met the swift upward arch of his hips from the sudden pang of pleasure sparking through him anew with a kiss to the tops of his thighs to ease the tensing limbs back down, ghosting her kisses inward again as she crouched between his legs. She trailed lips upward in the same path her fingertips had walked moments early, finally pressing a kiss to his inner cheek.

Then a warm, heavy breath fell along his cleft, practically already wetting him with its steaminess, the promising heat of it making his cheeks and thighs tremble in involuntary jerks of parting and unparting to chase that ever building storm of sensation, rewarded with stray little kisses that made him gasp for air, and —

And fuck was she really going to put her mouth on him there? And while they were here? In the middle of — fuck, he couldn’t allow himself to even think about it, squeezed his eyes shut tight so that he didn’t even have to look at the reality of where he was as she finally closed the last bit of distance to press that warm, thick tongue against his hole directly.

An embarrassingly sharp gasp caused his chest to heave as she dragged the plush cushion of her tongue forward along his hole to just beneath his sac, let out as a choked groan as she flicked it back down to slide the slick underside along the same path.

“Fuck yes,” she craned back slightly to purr without slowing the pumping of her hand, plump bottom lip barely brushing against his hole now as she mumbled the words against his skin. “Don’t hold back any of those pretty noises for me, baby. I want you to let me hear just how good it feels. I want you to be so fuckin’ loud for me God himself can hear how good I make you feel.”

And fuck the wretched, wrecked cry he bleated out in response to that could be heard echoing all the way off of the high beam ceilings in offering, shame at himself and anger at her chased out with the white hot molten rush jolting through him from the massage of her tongue flush against his entrance and a harsh stroke of her hand to glide precum dewing at his tip down his full length, making everything on him slick with want.

She flexed that full, flattened tongue for a few more beats of luxurious giving, as if to make sure every little nerve sparked to life to greedily accept her generous pressure before she lightened it to more teasing force. And then finally slid tongue back until just its tip trailed along the outermost edge of the sensitive ring, slowing the stroke of her hand as she did.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slamming a fist down in frustration at the abrupt retreat. “Stop fucking teasing already,” he hissed, arching frantically, scooting forward so that his thighs now rested fully atop her shoulders, legs practically wrapping around her neck. (In the back of his mind he noted what an ironic reversal it was of the first position they’d ever found themselves in, but couldn’t bear to dwell on it, on the thought of anything but getting more more more.) “Q-Quit fucking around and just g-get me off if you’re going to do it.”

But he knew the moment she neglected to meet his outburst with usual scolding for being too demanding, instead bringing her free hand up to cradle his thigh without bothering to lift her head or retract teasing tongue to spit out a clever retort, that it was useless. He was condemned to lay back a helpless mess of pealing moans and restless squirming as that wet tip circled him, slowly but surely creeping in towards where his body begged most for attention.

And fuck, after more gasping breaths than he thought he could survive in waiting as she continued her cruel path, at least she was merciful enough when she did finally reach his opening, stiffening her tongue to not waste another second not lavishing him with its full attention and finally building back up the pace of the hand wrapped around him. She lapped and licked at his entrance relentlessly now, driving him into a whole other gear of needy frenzy.

Until finally she set a steady rhythm in flicking her tongue to poke just barely past the ring of delicate folds and tightly clenched muscles, a regular pace of tiny wet tip pumping along the rim, just deep enough to tease him with an echo of the sensation of getting truly and properly fucked.

God, it was somehow both too much, sending his nerves into overdrive, and also not enough, making him desperately wish there was by some miracle proper lube around so she could do more than just teasing laps, thrust those free fingers currently digging into his thighs deep inside him instead.

But alas, surely not. They were, after all, in the middle of a church, he reminded himself with a sick little thrill that traveled through him with a deep shudder.

His thighs quivered in their place rested atop her shoulders from the rush of it, only growing more needy and shaking from her hand brushing up and down to soothe the tremor, rewarding him in tandem with a tight squeeze of the hand pumping his length and a deep, gravelly moan hummed against his skin, vibrating through every hungry nerve ending, sparking all the way up his spine and making him clench and tighten.

His hand curled and clawed restlessly at the carpet of the altar as he bucked hips against her mouth to frantically chase the sensation, gripping for purchase, for anything to anchor himself as he strained and pushed against her flexing tongue. The hand caressing his leg wrapped around to pull it outward, spreading him out even more to give herself better access, then slid up his thigh up to reach for his desperately grasping fist instead, twining their fingers as her tongue increased its pace. Her mouth stayed too busy pressed flush against him to speak, but she gave another rising hum in encouragement, squeezing the hand she held as her thumb brushed up and down along his skin in the embrace.

And it was that gentle little stroke of her thumb against the side of his hand that truly drove him over the edge — the fact that fuck she was really touching him so tenderly, affectionately, while the tip of her tongue wriggled in his ass.

It was simply too much, made every part of him tremble, locking that sweet caressing hand in a shaking vice grip while his rim fluttered to cling to her flexing tongue and press it against every greedy nerve ending and his cock gave those final begging throbs in her hand.

And it just felt too easy, so safe to fall apart when she had him like this, to let that deep quaking consume him and finally allow everything to snap in pulsing release.

“Oh, fuck yes, I’m — god yes, I’m fucking there, yes, Jessie,” he stuttered out incoherently as he was flooded with it, last overwhelming blaze igniting along his skin as he thrashed in surrender to the power of those waves of absolute ecstasy, carried by them without a care for the senseless ways his body and mouth moved as warm spurts of release fell along his torso and hips. “Yes, oh god, Jessie, fuck yes, my Jessie, so good — love it, Jessie. My sweet Jessie, make me feel so — so so good.”

His babbling cries slowly faded with his climax, and he collapsed back against the altar, laboring to catch his breath, lungs amongst the parts of him still frantically contracting and struggling to relax as he came down, hand still entwined with hers, that sweet little stroke of her thumb staying steady, brushing along skin to soothe him even as her grip slackened and her hand unwound from around his softening length to massage around the base now tingling with gentle relief.

“God, just look at you,” she rasped, as hoarse and teasingly lilting as ever as she finally lifted her head from between his legs.

He threw an arm over his eyes in sudden impulse to hide in response to the remark, certain he must in fact look as absolutely ruined as he felt. Not to mention it occurred to him for the first time that this was the most exposed she’d ever seen him, in his position sprawled out with shirt unbuttoned and pants around his ankles as warm sunlight spilled through high arched windows to fall along every inch of naked skin.

And he was already bracing himself for more bitter mocking from her, furrowed brow already slanting downward in resentment as he tried to jumpstart hazy mind to begin brainstorming a retort for whatever she was sure to attack first — a barb about the location, certainly, but she’d probably throw in something about the scars, or how pathetic he looked with his legs still spread, or —

“No fuckin’ fair for you to get to look this beautiful,” she grunted just under her breath before leaning down again, slipping a hand under his back before pressing her mouth against him to once again brush tongue along skin, kissing away the release coating his stomach.

Every planned jab melted away with the soft warmth of lips trailing along his skin, so that all he could do was arch upward to meet her.

Fuck. Beautiful. He hadn’t even realized beautiful was something he could feel, only something he could be with enough meticulous preening. But there was nothing else to describe the warm glow that swelled in his chest as she kissed up it, finally settling with her nose nuzzled at his neck.

“Jessie,” he hummed, finally pulling aside the arm cast over his eyes to rest behind him to prop himself up to rise, fluttering eyelids open to meet the tawny eyes now hovering above him.

Beautiful. Fuck, she was so beautiful too, eyes twinkling particularly golden caught with magnified sunlight and framed with lightly smudged charcoal of eyeliner smeared by sweat, cheeks rosy from the warmth of the summer day and the heat and energy generated between them, lips still so puffy from pressure and glossy with lingering saliva that he simply couldn’t resist just how kissable they were, craning his neck that last bit of distance to press them softly against his.

He settled into that comfortable relief of afterglow he so rarely actually savored as she moved her mouth against his with that same uncharacteristic sluggish tenderness, pressing more weight into his right hand to extend his arm and lean further into her as his left reached to her waistband to begin working at undoing her belt buckle.

“John,” she gasped softly into the kiss, before pulling back, straightening to sit back on her shins between his legs, scooting away until her knees were at the edge of the altar, gently shepherding him along to follow from the supportive hand still cradled at the small of his back.

“My turn,” he sighed against the lips he’d barely parted from as they readjusted themselves, still barely separating now as he murmured words against them. “Want to hear you screaming my name like that now. Want to make you feel that good.”

But her warmth was gone before he could even slide leather through metal, strap slipping through his fingers instead as she hopped down from the platform with an awkward chuckle.

“I, uh — I’m good, that’s alright,” she laughed, tugging at her belt loops to readjust her jeans before smoothing at their front. “Pretty much got what I wanted already.”

Comfortable warmth curdled and boiled over into stinging bitterness heating his insides yet again. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

He bunched fists into silk to throw his shirt back over his chest and regain some semblance of dignity, jumping down into his wrinkled pants just the same as the possibilities raced through his mind. So what then, was she now repulsed by him? Or had she just wanted to humiliate him while she maintained her own innocence? Or did she simply —?

“John, please.” His runaway train of thought was derailed by her overly casual scoff. “I told you, I am an on duty professional. I’m not gonna sully the badge by trying to get my rocks off on the clock.”

His mind realigned itself to race again to conjure the most biting response he could to that. Perhaps that she’d already sullied the entire department the moment she set sinful foot into it. Or a threat laced remark about how he could already have her stripped of the badge for abusing it to coerce him into doing something so shameful when he was just trying to innocently report a crime. Or perhaps simply pointing out she clearly cared about the sanctity of the uniform about as much as she cared about the sanctity of his church, which was…

“Plus I gotta hurry on back if I expect to get this dumbass report filed in time to still make it to happy hour at the Spread Eagle.”

Righteous fury smoldered and fell, reigniting a more petty anger.

“So you’re agreeing to file the report now?” he questioned, regaining his prior authoritativeness with a rise in measured tone and steady march forward to follow her down the aisle towards the exit.

“Well, yeah,” she replied almost boredly, turning around one last time to lean against the doorway at a slanted angle with forearm propped against the frame, flashing him an equally crooked smile. “What can I say? I found your oral arguments on the subject very convincing,” she added with an infuriatingly smug wink. “Besides, not like I had a fucking choice anyways. Yeah, you’re probably makin’ the story up, but no fucking shit a church is protected by trespass laws.”

He drew a deep breath in, puffing his chest out further as he approached to loom over her. “So you knew the entire time that —”

“Oh, what?” she huffed, lifting her chin to blow a hot puff of air against his lips with the words without adjusting her posture to even their heights, making a theatrical show of being completely unintimidated. “Is that annoying?” she asked in an overly whiny tone, with a crinkle of her nose and an overly sweet cock of her head to the side with feigned innocence. “When someone digs their heels into a stance they know is legally fuckin’ baseless just for personal gain?”

He slammed a hand against the wall and bent at the waist himself to mimic her in propping himself there casually, craning his neck down to flaunt how much larger he was than her still. “I could see how that would be frustrating. Particularly if your opponent’s only goal in putting forth a bad faith position seems to be dragging out an argument that —”

“That could have ended a long time ago,” she finished for him with a sharp, exaggerated nod, finally straightening herself to stand and taking a step back in the greeting room, flashing a final smirk before turning. “And saved everyone a lot of hassle. Speaking of which,” she added with a parting wave of her hand, strolling towards the door to the outside this time. “Unless you have anything material to add, like I fuckin’ said, I’d like to still make happy hour.”

“By all means,” he boomed with a flourish of his arm towards the exit she was already passing through. “Although I’m sure you’re already aware that also happens to be the time I like to do public outreach, and by now I’m sure you’re also certainly aware —”

“That there’s nothing I can do to stop you,” she barked without turning around, continuing towards her car. “‘Cause it’s a public place in a free country, after all. But that’s the exact same goddamn reason I’m not gonna let you run me out of there, because I have just as much right to be there as —”

“As I do,” he cut her off, now standing in the open doorway, feeling sunlight against his cheeks directly this time. “And I won’t be run off either, just so you know.”

“Alright!” she called out to him in acknowledgement with a last toss back of her head as she swung her driver’s side door open.

“Alright!” he shouted back in agreement, making sure to hurry the word out loud enough to be heard before her door finally slammed shut and she cranked the engine.

And he swore he saw her mouth the syllables of ‘alright’ one last time in the rearview mirror, and if satisfying some childish urge to have the last word in the matter, if only to herself.

So he muttered the word under his breath himself one last time before balling his hand into a fist and swinging it to turn around and stomp back into the building, down the corridor then circling around off to the side to watch her drive away through one of the main hall windows, police cruiser slowly vanishing over the horizon.

And so, after all that had happened, he ultimately ended the encounter much the same way he began it: staring out the window, stroking his beard, plotting their next interaction in his head.