Laurel Parker

His wrist still held that burning sensation where she grabbed him; Gideon was pleased she had not pulled him away so soon. Over the years the older man had tried his best not to imagine this happening, but always failing in the end. Her pale bare legs, paraded around shared hotel rooms, had tempted him for years now. Finally his longing desire to travel up them and devour what had, until now, lay hidden from him was quenched. And yet he ached for more…

Her groan, and soft landing on the pillow at the top of the bed, seemed to beg Gideon to go further. Slowly his fingers slid back down, stroking her inner lips, feeling the heat coming from between soft folds.

One long arm looped around her bent knee, the darkness of his skin contrasting with her own. Nose and lips pressed against her bent leg as he slowly pushed a single finger between velvety lips.

       This was not happening. This couldn’t be happening. But it was, and all reason had flown out the window the moment he settled in between her legs. He’d had her wrapped around his finger far longer, though neither of them realized that just yet. Or perhaps that denial was just that strong. He was still married, even if they were separated for a while now. And he was her partner. Her senior partner at that. But that, and every other rational thought she held in her pleasantly fuzzy head, flew out the window the moment those thick, capable fingers stroked her pink, eager lips, sending a little shiver down her spine.

       Laurel closed her eyes with a flutter of lashes. Lips parted to speak, but the half-hearted protest that she wasn’t even sure she wanted to make died on her tongue the moment she felt one rough fingertip against her entrance, and then turned into a breathy sigh as he pushed in. She was tight, but wet, eager though she’s never admit to it. Her hips shifted, the only hint that she was holding back, that some part of her was trying not to make things worse. He could take her, then and there. She knew it, and he probably did, too. But it would be a terrible idea, in the grand scheme of things. A line that shouldn’t be crossed, though some might say they’d already done that, and there was no coming back.

Her hand pulled away, leaving Gideon free to do as he wished. With excitement creeping into his eyes, Gideon’s fingers walked softly up her legs, around her hips, to the top of her boy shorts, inching the garment down. Nails gently dragging along delicate skin.

His gazed stayed with Laurel as he exposed her, watching her face as lust and arousal bloomed. Unable to stop himself he turned away to kiss the bend of her knee. Undergarment gone, dropped to the ground without a second thought, he ran a free hand up her leg once more, from ankle to thigh and up her hip, only to drag it back down through short curls above pink lips.

His eyes dropped to where his fingers stilled at the top bottomher mound, his lip caught between teeth as he hesitated, only for a moment, before tracing the outline of her lips. Drawing back up her slit he could feel wetness already gathering, before his thumb came to circle the hidden bundle of nerves.

       Those blunt nails dragging across her pale skin stretched taut over jutting hipbones was met with a sharp inhale and sent a pleasant little shiver down her spine at the same time warning bells went off on her head. This was a bad idea wrapped up in a good time and if he wasn’t going to stop before they reached a point of no return, she had to.

       Laurel grabbed his wrist before he could pull her underwear down more than an inch or two and held it there for a moment. Then she made the mistake of meeting his eye and any resolve she had to hold her ground unraveled in their depths. Her grip on him eased, her hand drifting away and her hips rising off the bed so he could finish what he started.

He studied her face, relaxed and yet strained, working towards a release he knew would take off the edge of the day better than any hot shower. Her eyes flew open, lips parted in surprise and Gideon worried he had ruined the moment. He said nothing, did not move a muscle.

Her whispered invitation was all he needed, stirring some new desire within him. His fingers trailed across the sliver of exposed abdomen before coming to rest over Laurel’s own fingers, the fabric of her shorts a barrier between them. Slowly he guided, fingers over fingers, watching her face as they continued what she had started. He kneeled on the bed between her legs, his free hand continuing to trace lines up the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, toying with the hem of her boy shorts.

Lines had been growing grayer every day between them, and though he knew this was another move in the wrong direction it felt… true.

       She hadn’t even realized it was an invitation until her was moving closer and she didn’t want to push him away. Her heart pounded in her chest and somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if he could hear it beating against her rib cage. Her throat had suddenly gone dry and she swallowed. Muscles twitched beneath her skin when his fingers skimmed over her stomach and her breath caught in her throat when those same fingers started to move down.

Long days called for long showers, and Gideon could only hope that he wouldn’t regret offering up the first shower to his partner. Steam crept out from under the bathroom door as he undressed, hanging pants, shirt, and tie over the small suitcase at the end of his bed. Parker‘s lengthy shower gave him time to flip through reports on his phone, trying not to think about the quickly depleting supply of hot water.

When she finally emerged Gideon quickly traded spaces, as familiar as they were with one another there were some lines they hadn’t crossed, wouldn’t cross, and he liked to give her the option of privacy.

The small room was still warm, and Gideon was pleased to find the water was still scalding hot as he stepped into the stream, leaving what little he was wearing on the floor. If his skin was not so dark it likely would have turned as pink as Parker’s shoulders had been upon exiting just minutes ago with the heat. Moments later the latch clicked as Parker reentered the room, something about her hair brush. Gideon hardly registering what she said as he let the water seep into tight curls, washing away the grime that had gathered. The door clicked again, leaving Gideon on his own.

Gideon and his long hot shower were not meant to be, the water turning from hot to warm faster than he would have liked, cutting his shower short. Rather than end on a sour note, Gideon turned the nozzle off while the water was still pleasant, pulling a towel down from the rack to dry off before slipping back into a clean pair of boxer briefs. Though too short, Parker should have managed to clothe herself by now, so Gideon did not hesitate or call out as he emerged from the bathroom.

“Oh.” He breathed out, pausing where he stood, as he took in the scene before him. one hand coming to scratch the back of his neck, elongating his entire body. She hadn’t seemed to notice him, and he couldn’t help but watch. The pucker where she bit her lips, the wrinkles in the pillow where she gripped tight, the long lines of her body, down to where slim fingers moved beneath cotton boy shorts.

He moved without thinking,arousal and desire guiding his steps towards the bed. “Laurel…” His deep voice almost impossibly soft, uncertain if she had planned this or simply gotten carried away. Dark fingers trailed up pale thighs, begging permission to continue.

       Something flickered at the edge of her subconscious, a far off sound that didn’t quite register as being real, so she didn’t stop, too distracted in the feel, in the draw of a promised orgasm to untangle the wound up nerves and ease the tension in her muscles, in her bones. She let herself think about what she saw in the shower, but told herself she would never do anything about it. They were partners. She reminded herself of that over and over even as her fingers worked.

       Laurel. Did she imagine that? Then his fingers were on her thigh, working their way up and that got her attention. Her hand stilled, dark eyes opened with a startled blink to stare at her partner. Her mouth opened, to apologize or explain, she wasn’t sure, but nothing came out anyway. The way he was looking at her...

Gideon raised an eyebrow at the flute of bubbly rocking back and forth before his dark eyes. With a soft gulp, he swallowed his temptation. Thankfully she seemed to take the hint and sank into the chair beside him, sipping the bubbly concoction herself. But he had relaxed too soon, she was leaning towards, him the alcohol on her breath drawing him in, his eyes seemed drawn to her pale lips. Instinctively he leaned towards her, mirroring her body.

“Special Agent Jackson.” he nodded towards the middle of the room. “In the gray suit and blue tie.” Gideon smiled as he looked over, straightening up as he did so. “We used to be partners. But I’m sure you know already.” He waved his hand as though batting at a fly. “There must be rumors and stories flying all around this department, if only for something to keep everyone occupied.”

He paused for a moment before turning to look down at the young woman next to him. “You enjoying yourself, Parker?”

       “Actually... Yeah.” She sounded a little surprised, and truth be told, she was. A night with a bunch of drunk old agents hadn’t really sounded like a fun time, but Gideon had asked her to come so he wouldn’t have to go alone, using the excuse that she could stand to meet a few other people in the agency besides him and their commanding officers. She didn’t have any other plans that didn’t involve sitting at home watching Netflix until she fell asleep with the tv on, and there would be free alcohol, so she agreed to at least show up, say hi, and keep him company for an hour or two before calling a cab.

       Laurel touched her head to Gideon’s shoulder in something akin to a silent thank you, the closest he would get, before settling back in her seat, shoulder to shoulder as she nursed the champagne. She listened in as a few people came by to say hi, some casual conversation with her partner, and she smiled and shook hands whenever she was introduced, but for the most part she was able to do what she preferred to do in these situations: she people watched.

Her light moved off oh him, and panned the room, Gideon’s stomach churned as the scene that was revealed around them. They had booth seen their share of grim and gore at a scene, and he knew to push down the emotions, focus on details; but this was too much to simply toss to the back of his mind to be forgotten. Bad juju was putting it lightly. He nodded silently in agreement

He tried to keep his eyes trained on the alter rather than focus on the horror around them. Small wooden bowls held strange bits of bugs and animals, a sprig of dried herbs shot out through a hold in, what looked to be, a human skull. “Whoever it was practicing here for some time,” He waved his hand towards the grave around them. “But…” He peered down to inspect the open space at the center of the alter. “It looks like they may have moved on.”

“Parker?” He looked up, still stooped over, the alter. Her pale face, the only bit of skin she left exposed, stood out in the darkness. Familiarity helping to cool the tension building in his shoulders. “You okay?” The concern in his voice clear.

       “yeah... Just. This place gives me the creeps.” An understatement, really. The stale air was thick and stifling and everything in her bones told her to leave now. She winced sympathetically when her footfalls trampled over the smaller bones, scattered out across the floor from where the larger remains lay in heaps and regular intervals around the circle. They had been deliberately placed, no doubt for a nasty ritual. She wondered who would even do such a thing.

       She’d been walking circles around the room, passing closer to the desk and the oddly glowing lantern with each passing, absently wracking her brain for anything she’d come across in her own scattered teachings that might give them a lead or a hint as to what had happened, why so many bodies and what looked to have been a hasty retreat.

[text to Juliet: I’ll be late. Jackson’s retirement party is still going.] [text to Juliet: Don’t wait up.] [text to Juliet: Miss you. Love You.]

Gideon slid his phone back into his pocket, not waiting for a reply text from his wife. She’d understand. Part of him wanted to slip away, leave them all behind and simply hold her close to his chest, but Gideon knew he owed it to his old partner to stick out the night.

The back room of the bar smelled of booze, temping Gideon to break sobriety with each inhale; every exhale a moment of relief. Not one for the spot light, Gideon had remained in the periphery for most of the night, giving quiet nods to those he knew, making light conversation as required, a tonic and lime in his left hand, contrasting sharply with the darkness of his skin.

Gideon had hoped to spend the rest of the evening observing others and focusing on something other than the familiar smell of spiked punch, but fate would prove to be unkind to him tonight. Parker was approaching, a smile on her face, and two drinks in her hands.

       Laurel didn’t really know anyone here, not on a personal level. She knew most of their names, had said at least hello to a few of them in passing, but when it came to business relations, she really only knew Gideon. But she didn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night and going out to do something that wasn’t part of a mission was a nice change of pace.

Her touch, no matter how fleeting, was like an electric spark,carrying an almost magical edge to it. Gideon would never admit that the fleeting moments occasionally filled his thoughts in the dark of night, unbidden but never pushed away. Perhaps this is what happened just now, but Gideon brushed it off as a trip, tensing his arm, and automatic reaction to help keep her balance.

He studied her. It was clear from the expression on Parker’s face that she wouldn’t listen even if he chained her to the kitchen table. He sighed. “Fine then.” His tone gruff as he turned back toward the open basement door. Long dark fingers covered the slim pale ones still clutching his sleeve and he gave a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

“Stay ready. Don’t be rash.” He warned, knowing she would likely roll her eyes at the familiar words. With a final steadying breath, he led the way down the stairs, pausing as his feet hit the bottom.

The entire floor was one wide open room, and though there was no immediate sign of another living being Gideon drew his gun, keeping it at the ready,. “What the hell.” He managed to breath out as he approached the center of the room. An alter had been erected, a green light source came from a lantern, illuminating the sigils etched into an ancient desk. “I hope I’m wrong about what I think this is.” He muttered, fingers tracing the well worn carvings.

        He knew her well. She did in fact roll her eyes, as she did any other time his tone dipped into the range reserved to talking to small children and Laurel. Sometimes she wondered if he still saw her as that scared little kid he found on the side of the highway over ten years ago. Had it really been that long?

       Laurel followed after Gideon, a gap between them should be stop abruptly. There was no telling what they were going to find, but it wasn’t going to be pretty. The air around them felt tainted the more they moved down the creaking wooden steps into the dark. She had her flashlight ready, but it was aimed at the wall as she searched for a light switch with no such luck. She didn’t see what had caught his attention until he spoke and she directed her flashlight at him, then a little past.

       “Oh no...”

       As if on cue, or because she couldn’t ignore it anymore, the gut punching feel of death crept into her senses, rotten and foul, twisting at her insides. Laurel swept her flashlight across the floor in a circle around them, revealing bones and blood that littered the floor in what was clearly a circle around the desk. She stifled a gasp with her sleeve, fighting back the wave nausea that had nothing to do with the carnage they had walked into and everything to do with the sick green light pulsing in the lantern, seemingly brighter the closer she moved to it. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

       Every fiber of her being wanted to run like hell, get as far away from this house as possible. But she was nothing if not stubborn. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to scare her away and keep her from doing her job. 

“Job’s a job.” Gideon nodded in agreement as he pushed open the door. A long, slow creak from the door, a sign of non-use, should have echoed through the entryway, but was swallowed by the dust covering every surface. Light shown in through the space between half drawn curtains, dappling the first few rooms in afternoon sunlight. It was a contrast to the strange tremor of something dark that seemed to tingle across Gideon’s skin..

Gideon turned to look back at his partner, “It’s what they say, I don’t believe a word of it though.” He shrugged. “Where there’s rats there’s trouble.” They had looped through the kitchen now which was equally still, save for a short path traced in the dust from back door to basement stairs.

He pushed the door. No squeak of the hinge.

Magic existed in this world, and at this moment even Gideon, with his mundane soul, could feel the aura of something dark below their feet. All thoughts of rats were gone from his mind now, his only concern now was for the young woman by his side. “This is… Not right.” He frowned, an expression likely to be etched onto his lips in death out of familiarity. “You should stay up here.” His hand at the gun on his hip as he studied the angles of her face. “Stay up here and… keep watch.” It was a weak attempt at an order, and he doubted she would listen anyway. Stubborn

       She felt it almost immediately after he opened the door. Like a kick to the gut, the overwhelming sense of wrongness hung heavy in the air. She guessed that Murphy, even being a mundane as he was, could also sense that something was off even if he couldn’t put his finger on it. Laurel reached out to grab Murphy’s arm, ended up grabbing at his sleeve instead, but it was close enough for what she needed. The brief window of almost contact was enough to siphon off just a minuscule fraction of natural energy inside him that all living creatures held, just a small draw to top off her own reserves and not nearly enough for him to even notice, not with everything else around them.

       Everything had its own signature, their own personal stamped on their particular sort of energy, but people were most distinct. Unique. She’d been tapping into him for years, on the sly and he had been none the wiser. It was only ever when she really needed it and couldn’t risk drawing from her surroundings for one reason or another. And in doing so, she has his signature memorized, ingrained into her skull. She could find him anywhere, and tapping into him was almost as effortless as breathing.

A hint of her shampoo wafted up as Parker moved in closer, keeping up the illusion. Nothing More. Any possibility of distraction was pushed from his mind, years of practice helping to keep him focused.

“Willard?” His brow furrowed. “Weird kid, weirder family, friends with basement rats. I’ve seen it. Did not need the reminder right about now.” His eyes roved the run down facade of the home before them, only half believing he would not see a pair of eyes peeking out from behind yellowing curtains.

“Rats entering a home are a sign of good fortune, new beginnings, all that white lady guru nonsense.” His tone flat with sarcasm as he continued. “Doubt we’ll be that lucky.” One deep breath and he pulled away, fingers trailing across her lower back as he stepped towards the house.

“Ready?” He asked, looking back at Parker.

      “Really?” She did look up then, with an expression that said she only half believed him, while also wondering where he’d heard that nonsense. It sounded fake, or at least not like anything she had heard of when she was still actively practicing her craft. Either way, she shook her head, let it go. No, they were rarely any kind of lucky.

      Her own deep breath mirrored hiss, rolling her shoulders to try to ease some of the tension there before adding more onto it, all too aware of the place where his hand had been that, despite the layers she wore, now felt cold in its absence. The breath was let out in a huff, followed by a shrug as she moved to follow after her partner. He took the lead, she followed behind. That’s how they always worked. That was their routine.

Reports had been coming in for a few weeks now about the nearly abandoned house on Maple and 12th. The 86-Ds had ranged in description from strange noises at night, to rattling windows, even one report of a mass of rats flocking to the area. Gideon had managed to put the task off all month, but as the folder swelled in his inbox the senior agent could not put the case off any longer.

Maple and 12th was not located in the nicest neighborhood in the city, cops on their beat patrolled past busy bodegas and dingy apartments. The locals were far enough down the block that Murphy and Parker wouldn’t draw their attention, but he didn’t want to take any chances. His long arm reached out to wrap around his partner’s waist, pulling her in closer to peer over a list of past owners and tenants as though they were a couple house hunting.

      “Have you seen the movie Willard?” Laurel tilted her head towards him a little so only he could hear her side of the conversation, resisting the silly urge to look up, instead keeping her eyes on the list but focusing more on any movement that passed through her peripheral vision. Focused. Muscles tightened under her skin, an ache forming between her shoulders. Something about the job just didn’t feel right and it put her on edge.