Jake pulling Amy back into his lap
She's being a tease tonight.
He's come over far too early today, disrupting her usual weekday routine by two hours, and if there's one thing Amy Santiago can't stand, it's a disruption to a routine. (Although that is ever so slowly changing, considering she's dating Jake Peralta, anti-routine in person...) It's fine, he'd said, it was his own fault, and she shouldn't change her plans for him, he can entertain himself well enough on her couch while she gets done whatever she needs to get done before their planned movie marathon.
Except.
She seems to have decided he still needs to get punished for interrupting her.
Because he really is completely content waiting on her couch, scrolling through apps on his phone, playing a few games and sending off texts.
If she wouldn't constantly stop by during her many little tasks, steal a kiss here, scratch through his hair there, bend over and past him to reach something on the coffee table when she could've just walked around, then walk around and bend over to grab something else in exactly the right pose that gets him a special view before walking off again.
She always darts off to whatever else she needs to get done before he can react, and all he's left with is the taste of her lips, the feeling of her hand, the scent of her shower gel and shampoo, that clear sight of there being absolutely no bra under her tanktop. It's enough to drive a grown man insane, especially if that man knows exactly what she's doing, what kind of game she's playing. He hates that game. He'll always lose it.
So the next time she comes around, asking him to taste her mom's reheated chili on a cornchip, swiping sauce from his lip with her thumb and licking it off, he grabs the beltloop of her pants and pulls her towards him before she can run off again.
She lands on his lap with a little squeal, but her grin is anything but surprised.
"Jake, I have things to do. You said you'd be okay-" She scolds him before he silences her with a kiss, finally a more thorough one than what little scraps she's been throwing him the whole evening.
βI would be okay.β He growls against her lips. βIf someone wasnβt constantly teasing me when sheβs supposed to be busy.β
βI donβt know what you mean.β Amy quips before whining as Jakeβs hands squeeze her butt and push her even closer into his lap. βI really should check the pot on the stove-β
"You're not going anywhere." he kisses her again, bites and drags her lower lip for emphasis, but she won't give up that fast.
"Someone needs to learn a thing or two about patience." She gives him a pointed look before wriggling out of his grip and making to leave the couch, but he grabs her waist and pulls her right back, landing her backside against his chest this time.
"Someone needs to stop playing games." he huffs into her ear as his hands go roaming. She sighs quite happily when they find her breasts under her tanktop, but her smile turns mischievous again when he unbuttons her slacks.
"I'm not playing any games."
"You are, Santiago." His hand slips into her work-appropriate pants, too tight between the fabric to really move it much, but just enough to elicit a quiet moan before she answers with baited breath.
"Yeah", she breathes, still grinning. "And you'll always lose, Peralta..."
"We'll see about that." And suddenly his hand and its perfect little circles are gone from her pants, pushing her up by her shoulders instead. "You said something about checking a pot?"
"Jake...!" Amy whines, but he only pushes her further until she's almost falling off his knees.
"You wanted to play a game, Ames. I'm only making my move." Now it's his turn to grin, although it's more of an appreciative smirk as he sees her already blown pupils staring back at him angrily. "Come back without those tight slacks, and maybe we can see about a truce."
She growls - deep, angry, and definitely eliciting a stir from his own pants - before she stands up.
"There's no truce in this game." Amy states before turning away from him, her lovely arse right on his eye level. With one swift move, she pulls down her pants - and her panties right with them, flashing him a view that makes him inhale loudly.
And then, she walks off.
(He hates this game, and he loves it. But no matter what - he's always going to lose.
He finally follows her after just a second, admitting defeat to himself and then, when he catches up, to her. It's all she's been waiting for.)
