thecatinahat | (no subject)

He's nodding his head before he even realizes what he's doing. Words might fail him, but he knows that the one thing that will remain steady is the fact that he can nod and mouth 'si', because he hasn't got anything else to offer but himself, his heart, and everything on a platter.

"You said there were two types of guys," he manages to find his English. "Not me. You never said." Jake is the one who talks and can navigate whole conversations. If she had feelings, why didn't she just say?

For a moment, she has no idea what he's talking about. That conversation they had the first day they were pretending to be married has been all but put out of her mind, and she stares at him in confusion for a moment before it all clicks and she scoffs with a mixture of incredulity and irritation.

"Two type of guys that want me," she clarifies, letting go of her coffee with one hand so she can gesticulate wildly in mid-air to accentuate her point. "Not two types of guys that I like! Do you seriously think I want a man to break me down and make me smaller and weaker than him? Cougar come on. You've known me how long? That's fucking ridiculous."

Scowling at him, feeling cross that they've both been tiptoeing around this for god knows how long, she lowers her voice a little so that the guys aren't getting a crystal-clear play by play of this conversation. Bad enough they're watching them and making no move to be sneaky about it. "I've been practically throwing myself at you for weeks, man, you never gave any indication you were interested." She huffs a laugh, her expression wobbling between annoyed and almost tearful. "For a sniper, you're so fucking blind."

And she decides to take matters into her own hands, reaching up and knocking his hat off his head before grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking him into a proper, fervent kiss.

He wants to argue 'what point of curling up to you' isn't interested. What point of him touching her every opportunity he gets and kissing her temple and holding her hand isn't his interest in her? He's frustrated enough to want to start ranting at her, but before he can do anything or argue, his hat is flying to the balcony ground and his shoulders are hitting the glass door behind him, rattling it as he tangles his fingers into her hair and gives himself over.

He melts into the kiss, his hands drifting down to her waist to wrap an arm around it to hold on tight. Now that he's got her pressed up against him, he refuses to let go. "JJ," he exhales fondly, when he nudges his nose against her jaw. "You should have said."

There's a slightly-muffled whoop coming from the other side of the door, but she's too busy pressing herself up against Cougar to pay attention enough to tell which one of their idiotic friends it is.

Her mug drops from her fingers to shatter on the tile of their balcony, but she doesn't even pull away to swear, too busy sliding her now-free hand into Cougar's hair to hold on all the tighter.

She wants to say that fireworks go off when he kisses her, or the skies open and a heavenly chorus comes down to serenade them for what they're doing, but honestly, it's not an earth-shattering moment. It's comfortable. Sinking into Cougar's arms feels right, like this is something that they should have been doing for years, like they fit together perfectly and this was meant to be.

His arm is warm and solid against her back, his hand spreading wide against her side as he nuzzles her jaw. "I'm sorry," she murmurs with a happy sigh, running her fingers through his hair. "I just didn't want to lose you. You're my best friend. I didn't want to fuck up what we have."

"Doing the opposite of that, I think," is Cougar's opinion, breathing in and out in tandem with hers, wanting to be with her in every sense of the word. Six weeks of lost time is something he wants so badly to catch up on and he wants to start now. He reaches behind him for the balcony door, reluctantly prying himself away from her in order to glare at the others.

"Max, tomorrow," he says, danger in his eyes when Roque looks like he might offer dirty comments. "Out," he says calmly, landing on Clay. "We'll handle this." They'll make sure that it works. He gives Jake a long look as they leave the apartment, refusing to take his eyes off her.

"Hat, please," is his calm request.

Picking her way through the broken shards of china and spilled coffee in bare feet is difficult enough that she keeps her eyes on the ground when Cougar tows her back inside, using it as an excuse to avoid meeting the knowing glances she's getting from her teammates.

His hat is a little damp, but at least the dark brown leather masks whatever coffee stains she may have inadvertently left on it, and she hands it over to him when he asks, still silent but looking so pleased and still a tiny bit overwhelmed that it should be obvious she's alright.

Cougar stands at the door and lets each and every one of them out, refusing to rise to any of the bait. When Clay goes first, he just gives Cougar a very serious look and mutters 'don't piss her off', which Roque snorts about, clapping Cougar on the shoulder while his gaze slides over Jensen.

"Your funeral, man," Roque says.

Pooch lingers, but he just gives Cougar a nod. "About time," is all he says. "Jesus, if I had to watch the two of you dancing and mooning for any longer, I was gonna accidentally run us off the road. Pooch's eyes can't take it." And then he's gone, too, letting Cougar close the door and take his hat.

At which point, they're alone. They're alone and Jensen has been kissing him. He smiles, then, a slow and smirking thing. "JJ," he says, setting his hat on the table, crooking his fingers towards himself. "Come here."

To avoid having to avoid eye contact any more, Jake decides to go pick up the bits of coffee mug she broke by letting it slide from her fingers like a total idiot. They're down to one cup, now, which means either they'll have to alternate who gets to have coffee, or she's going to have to learn to take it with less sugar so they can share.

She's still carefully picking up shards of porcelain when the door finally shuts behind the rest of her team, and by the time she gets to her feet, Cougar is standing and watching her with the sort of grin on his face that brings a blush to hers.

"I can't believe I did that in front of the team," she breathes, giggling a little despite herself. She does as she's told, though she does take a brief detour to dump the broken cup in the trash, but then she makes a beeline straight for Cougar. "They're never going to let it go. Never."

Cougar grins as he bends down a little so that when she's close enough, he can lift her into his arms, hands on her ass and groping for all the weeks he hasn't done enough groping as he starts to kiss a line up her neck, breathing her in and wondering how he could have slept next to her for six weeks and not done this. His willpower is good, but not that good.

"I'm glad you did it," he says. "We would have gone much longer without this, if you hadn't."

She's used to looking down at Cougar slightly, but not from this height. Still, when he lifts her in his arms, she wraps her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, laughing and then muffling a little 'meep' sound when he gropes her ass and presses his lips to her neck.

"If you weren't such a goddamn martyr..." she tries to complain, but it's hard when he's kissing her skin like that. Her legs tighten around his waist and she bites her lip for a moment before continuing, "we might have done something sooner."

He draws back, an affronted and confused look on his face as he gapes at her. "Martyr?" he echoes, holding onto her as he begins to carry her towards the little bed that they've been sharing. "How have I been a martyr? You've been the one not saying anything."

"Neither have you!" She laughs, tangling both her hands in his hair and bending her neck to kiss him, indulging herself by making it deeper than the others they've shared, trusting him not to walk her into any walls. "This explains so much about why you always get weird when nobody's around."

"I don't talk. You do," he says, like it's the nature of things between them. He gently lays her out on the bed and stands above it, narrowing his eyes at her comments. "Weird? I'm not weird," he growls defensively, because as far as he's concerned, nothing he does is weird.

"Oh, sure. Pin it all on me, that's fine."

Jake has never really had much cause to be alluring, always being too busy trying to prove herself, that she's not weak or less than the others, but she's seen enough movies to have some idea what she's doing. She props herself up on one elbow, her legs bending slightly, and reaches out for him with her free hand, letting her lips curl in a way she hopes looks coquettish and not constipated. That would kill the mood.

"Then stop being weird right now and come here."

Cougar cocks one brow upwards and purses his lips in a little kissy motion before he steps off his boots and shirt, practically jumping on the bed so he can sprawl atop her. "Six weeks," he says, voice low and base. "Six weeks, I sleep with you here. Wake up to you. Six weeks of my cock against you, you think I didn't want you?"

Jake's about to open her mouth to bitch that he's taking too long when he finally clambers onto the bed, lying on top of her and pinning her down to the bed.

She can't help the little shiver that crawls down her spine at what he says. "I've lived with four guys for five years," she protests, her hands lifting to settle on his waist as her legs shift beneath him to make space for him between them. "I know how morning wood works. I didn't know it was for me."

"Every time I say you are beautiful," he retorts. "Your coffee. Your breakfast. Your hand and mine," he huffs, shaking his head as he slides down between her legs and flips up the hem of her dress in order to slide down her underwear, flicking it to the side before he returns to pressing slow kisses up her thigh, the skirt of her dress covering his head.

"I know what you're like," she tries to insist, biting her lip as she watches him crawl down the bed. She's not feeling so coquettish any more. "You're like a Mexican Disney prince when you set your mind to it, and I just—oh!"

She can't keep talking when he's pressing his lips to her inner thigh, his goatee tickling her skin. This whole dress thing is really obnoxious right now, and she scrambles to gather the skirt up about her waist so she can watch him, her heart thundering in her chest. "Oh shit."

He raises his brow when she calls him a Disney prince, smirking as he reaches up to slide his palms over her hips, grasping tight as his thumbs dig in and make little divots against the smooth skin, taking a slow trip upwards to make sure he lets Jake enjoy every second of this. He's all about patience and care, but as he noses his way up, he knows that he's going to work his tongue in short, shallow touches and long, languid strokes, aiming to do this as long as he can make Jake last.

"You are."

His hands are warm and steady on her hips, rough fingertips gentle as they get a good grip and hold her skill. It's probably for the best, because Jake wants to squirm already, restless even before he's done anything substantial.

In her defense, it's been like almost three years since she's gotten off with anything other than her own hand, so this is kind of a big deal.

In order to properly enjoy herself, she pushes up onto her elbows again, wanting to watch this, only for her dress to pool back down low across her hips and block her view. Grumbling, she flops back onto the bed and starts to wiggle out of it as best she can with Cougar holding her hips still, yanking it up and over her head, turning it inside out as she goes before balling it up and throwing it somewhere across the room. Now she can see.

He looks up when she pushes the dress aside and that's when his brain short-circuits again. All those mornings, he knows that she's got pierced nipples because he feels the brush of them up against his chest, but seeing them in practice -- more than that, seeing a naked Jake in practice -- is short-circuiting his brain. He wants to touch every bit of her, every last bit, and at the same time, he refuses to shift from his task at hand.

So he goes back to it harder, faster, a little rougher than before because if she's going to play dirty, then so is he.

She can almost watch his pupils blow wide and dark when he looks up at her after she rips off her dress, and that, almost more than anything else, makes her believe he wants her. He looks hungry, like he wants to eat her literally, and she can't help but shiver and let out a little mewl, heat washing through her with a roar.

"Oh shit, Cougar," she breathes, reaching out with one hand to slide her fingers over his hair.

His hands keep roaming up, like he's trying to touch her from here, but they always have to settle back against her hips for the leverage he needs to yank her towards him, a steady assault of teasing at first, little dabs and licks before he goes back to it, a grin on his lips as he purses them, giving a soft little hum before he goes back to his attentions and affections.

There's absolutely no point in trying to keep stoic or whatever, so Jake lets herself moan as loudly as she wants to when Cougar hums against her, the hand she has in his hair curling so that she's actually got a grip on him and isn't just riding the gentle bobbing of his head. She doesn't try to yank him anywhere or anything, though, just holds on as she folds her lower lip between her teeth.

Of course Cougar eats pussy like a champ. There should be no reason for her to be surprised by this, and yet it's like a fucking revelation all the same.

"Oh god," she moans, arching her back to try and get closer to him. "Fuck the Army, you've got a new job now."

He gives a considerate hum as he thinks of quitting the sniping business in order to service her at all hours of the day. In response to that, he flattens his tongue and works her a little harder, his grip growing tighter because he wants these marks to last and he wants her to feel them tomorrow. If she can't sit down tomorrow, that will be a success. If she can barely walk, then he'll know that he's done well.

"Mi amor," he murmurs, a soft kiss brushed to her thigh, allowing his beard to bristle the soft skin, before returning to his task with care and steady, focused devotion.