by SarAdora ~~~~~~~~~~
"He's gay?" Craig burst into laughter. "How can you tell?"
"Loves men. Ignores the women who visit. Barely tolerates me," Pip grinned. "Wanna see?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I let him out, he'll be after you in a New York minute," she warned.
"What does *that* mean?" the A.D. asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"First, he'll sit on your shoulder and nibble on your neck. Then he'll whisper naughty suggestions in your ear. If you're amenable..." Pip smirked. "Hoover will pull your zipper down and after that..." she rolled her eyes. "The two of you are strictly on your own. I'm out of here."
Craig chuckled. "How long did it take you to teach him to do that?"
"I didn't," she swore.
"I inherited Hoover from a former marine," she said with a wry grin. "A former marine who swung both ways."
Craig snorted, then put a finger through the bars of the cage to stroke the macaw's head.
Hoover turned his head from one side to the other, eyeing Craig's finger. "Puny lil' thing. Hope your dick's bigger than that," it squawked.
Craig chuckled. "Yeah, it is."
The macaw opened its beak and laid the flat of its tongue on Craig's finger, startling the A.D. who quickly pulled his finger out of the cage.
Pip laughed when Craig scowled.
"Ready to eat, A.D.?"
"Yeah," he said, following her out of the kitchen and looking over his shoulder, glared at the macaw.
One of the hardest things for a female sign language interpreter to do is to talk to a hearing person without using her hands. The male interpreters seem less bothered by the irritating habit, but Pip thought that was because they generally kept their hands in their pockets or clasped when they were talking. It wasn't too bad when she was eating; her hands were busy with the food. But when her hands weren't busy... It never failed. She'd be talking and gesturing naturally, and oops! She'd inadvertently sign something - generally, something she wasn't saying - generally, something her mind was thinking.
So, when she asked A.D. if he wanted to eat at the dining room table or at the coffee table in the living room, she gestured. Her hand swept in front of her body pointing toward the living room but instead of returning to her side, it swept back over her breast and up to her throat, her thumb and index finger lightly caressing the skin as the digits came together, fingers touching. She flushed a bright shade of red. Her guest may not have known what she signed, but she knew her wayward mind had just invited the man to explore her body.
"You okay?" Craig asked, looking at her.
"Yes, of course," Pip answered quickly. "Let's eat at the coffee table, okay?"
He agreed, helping her move the food containers to the living room.
"Would you rather eat off a plate? I *do* have dishes."
"No, let's eat out of the containers. That way, we can fight over who gets what," he grinned.
"You can have anything you want, A.D." she smiled at his boyish grin.
"Anything?" his lips curved.
"Almost anything," she grinned, shaking her head. This was moving a little too fast. "What's A.D. stand for?" she asked out of the blue.
"Assistant Director," he said, opening the containers and spreading some napkins.
"Assistant Director?" Pip paused. "Assistant Director of what?"
"Of the FBI, Pipster," he said calmly, looking at her.
"You son of a bitch," she said quietly. "You miserable son of a bitch. You bumped into me and acted like..."
"Stop right there," A.D. Mitchell growled. "YOU bumped into me. It was pure coincidence. I didn't know you or that you were in the FBI's training program until we walked into that deli, and furthermore," he continued to growl, "you have yet to see the son of a bitch side of me." Craig stood, preparing to leave.
"Son of a bitch!" Hoover squawked, making them both smile.
"Don't go," she said quietly. "I apologize. It's just that..."
"Just what?" he asked, sitting down again.
"Nothing," she shook her head, disgusted with herself for overreacting. "Let's eat before it gets too cold."
"Just what?" he asked again, his tone softer.
"One of the instructors has been after me to go back and finish the training program. He calls, writes, emails; sometimes he's on my doorstep."
"What's his name?"
"Does it matter?" she asked, her mood suddenly pensive.
"It does to me," he said sincerely. "The FBI has a code of ethics and a code of behavior we all swear to follow. I don't want our name besmirched any more than it has been. Tell me who he is. I'll handle the matter discreetly and put an end to the harassment."
"You'd do that for me? A stranger? You don't even know me."
"I'd like to know you better, Pipster," he said, his warm, brown eyes looking directly into hers.
Pip nodded, swallowed hard and gestured toward the food. "Let's eat while it's still hot."
They dug in, sitting close, sharing the food in each of the take-out containers, their chopsticks dueling for a tasty morsel of this or that. He offered her a bite from his chopsticks and when she opened her mouth to take it, he spoke softly. "My name's Craig."
"Are you always such a gentleman?" she asked, enjoying the pressure of his warm thigh against hers.
"No," he admitted honestly. "I'm pretty much a bear at the office."
"Which division do you head up?"
"Criminal... I... I know who you are."
"What do you mean?" he asked, knowing he had never met her before that afternoon and completely perplexed at her reaction.
"Let's just say your reputation is legendary at Quantico."
"I did well at Quantico, but my performance wasn't legendary," he grinned, offering her another morsel from his chopsticks.
"It is now," Pip smirked.
"Explain yourself, Pipster," he said in his normal voice of authority.
She laughed. "Now you sound like an A.D."
"I *am* an A.D.," he said firmly and with a scowl. "And I'm waiting for an explanation."
"I'm not in the FBI, A.D. Mitchell, and you don't scare me," she grinned, popping a small piece of her wonton into his mouth.
He dropped his chopsticks and without warning, pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard.
"But you *are* in my arms," he said quietly when he lifted his mouth, "and I'm bigger than you."
"Your size doesn't scare me," Pip murmured, focusing on his mouth.
"What does scare you?" he asked as he captured her lips once again, his tongue pushing inside, exploring, and tasting.
"Your mouth," she admitted. "Your mouth scares me."
"Why?" he murmured, moving his lips over her throat, sucking a bit of flesh and sending shivers skittering down her spine.
"Because I want more of it," she whimpered.
"How much more?" he rumbled before capturing her mouth again.
"More," she groaned, her hands slipping around his neck as she pressed her breasts into his chest.
Craig pressed his hand against her back, keeping her close to him, the fullness of her breasts satisfying and teasing at the same time. He wanted to fondle them, kiss them, suck her nipples between his lips and make her crazy. He was hard.
He pulled them down to the couch and immediately pushed a heavy thigh between hers, his hard cock rubbing against her belly.
"I'm hard for you," he said quietly, cupping her ass. "I want you. Tell me yes or tell me to go to hell. I can't wait till a third date."
"Do you always move this fast, Mr. Mitchell?" Pip asked, her hand squeezing the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers.
"No," he murmured, kissing her hard again, his tongue pushing between her lips and demanding entrance.
She stroked his groin. "Why should I let you...?"
"I don't play games," he growled, abruptly sitting up. "Either you want me or you don't."
"You sure you can't wait till the third date, Mr. A.D.?" Pip laughed, the tip of her tongue peeking out to lick her upper lip.
"You're a tease," he chuckled, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap, one hand on the back of her neck, the other cupping a very full and round breast. "A little cock teaser, aren't you?"
"Not as a rule," she admitted, enjoying the feel of his hands on her. She especially enjoyed the gentle way he fondled her breasts. Most men just grabbed her and squeezed; Craig caressed her as if her pleasure was as important to him as his own. She didn't want him to stop.
"Tonight?" he asked, his lips sucking her earlobe, his warm breath in her ear.
"Yes," she said. "Tonight."
"I want you naked," he growled low, reaching for the zipper on her pants suit.
"As long as I get you naked, too, Mr. Assistant Director," Pip grinned, making Craig chuckle again.
"Where's the bedroom?" he asked and scooped her up against his chest, in a hurry now.
"That way," she pointed, laughing softly. "You got an appointment somewhere?"
"Uh-huh," he stopped to kiss her hard. "Between your thighs, Pipster."
Pip swallowed. She knew she was wet.
He laid her on top of her bed, his arms around her back, his mouth covering hers, and his hardness pressing into her softness. "I want you, Pipster. I want you badly."
"Slow down, big guy. I'm not going anywhere," she murmured, unbuttoning his shirt, rubbing his chest.
He yanked his shirt out of his pants, pulling it over his head. Pip laughed at his haste, but then moaned softly as she feasted on the hard muscles of his broad chest. He groaned when she touched him, her soft hand teasing him and reached for the zipper on her pantsuit.
When she pulled it down to her hips exposing the slightly tanned body to his gaze, he put his hand over hers. "I want to unwrap you, Pip," he said, his voice somewhere between a growl and a plea, his eyes feasting on her flesh.
Pip smiled. This man was more interesting by the second. "You really in the FBI, Mitchell man?"
"Yes," he chuckled. "Really. What makes you doubt my word?"
"Your manners..." She thought a moment. "Your gentleness... your courtly ways."
"You think because I'm FBI, I'm an S.O.B.?" he growled, giving her a glimpse of the surly A.D.
"I don't know. Are you?"
"Told you I'm a bear at the office," he reminded her as he moved his hands over her exposed flesh. "I have a few subordinates who would gladly tell you I'm an S.O.B."
"Is the appellation warranted?" she asked, her hands covering his as they migrated from her navel to her breasts.
"Am I going to see that side of you, tonight?" She stilled his hands to look at him.
"Only if you keep stalling," he chuckled, pulling her pantsuit off her shoulders and down her arms. Slipping a hand down her back, he cupped her bottom cheeks and lifted her, his other hand pulling the pantsuit completely off.
He leaned back on his heels to look at her. She was clothed only in a bra and panties and the silky mauve lingerie drew his hands. "You are beautiful, Pipster," he murmured, leaning over her to nibble her throat. "Absolutely beautiful."
"Do I get to unwrap you, too, Mitchell Man?"
"Maybe," he murmured, his mouth moving down her body, nosing the valley between her breasts as his hand slipped behind her back to unclasp her bra. When her breasts were free, he cupped them - reverently - and smiled as her generous globes overflowed his hands. His mouth immediately sought a dusky nipple and kissed it, causing it to harden under his lips. When he moved to the other breast, Pip stroked his scalp, sweet soft sounds coming from the back of her throat.
His mouth descended further, his lips trailing over her silky torso, the tip of his tongue exploring and tasting. He smoothed his hands over her ribs, his fingers like feathers teasing the silky flesh between each one, making her purr. He moved them to her hips, lightly caressing, not quite cupping her butt. When his palms slid over the tops of her thighs, his fingers slipped under the edge of her silk panties, stroking and teasing.
Pip lifted her hips, making him chuckle. "Who's in a hurry, now, Pipster?"
"I believe in revenge, Mister," she hissed, lifting her legs and trying to strangle him with her thighs.
Craig laughed, delighted she was eager, even more delighted her panties were wet. He pulled them off and kissed her folds, spreading her thighs further so he could lick all of her sensitive flesh.
Pip's groans grew needier, her hands on the back of his neck pulling him closer as her hips arched toward him. "Please," she whimpered.
"Soon, Pipster," he murmured and sucked the tiny bit of flesh that throbbed under his lips until she peaked, then lapped her nectar until the waves rolled over her and she was still once again.
She lay on her back, her legs spread wide, her glistening sex exposed to his hungry gaze and watched him strip. She had wanted to undress him but at the moment, could barely raise her head, the post coital stupor still lingering, an occasional shudder still making her tingle.