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Ema frowns as she hears the footsteps behind her. She rises from the microscope and says, turning to face the intruder, "I already freakin' told you--"
She stops when she sees that she's been joined in the lab not by Klavier, but Apollo. Her lips quirk ever so slightly into a smile.
"Hello to you, too," he says, worry creasing his brow. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she says, sighing as she sinks back against the counter. "I just thought you were--"
"--Klavier," they finish together.
He takes a few steps forward, moving closer to her so that she's within arms reach, but he doesn't actually reach for her. She smiles earnestly now, at his hesitancy, and leans forward to plant a kiss on his nose. "I'm glad to see it's you, instead."
He blushes, but he moves a hand to her hip, snaking it around her waist. She rests her forehead against his shoulder, and she feels him relax, his nervousness sliding out of him. They've been doing this thing--this dating thing--for a few weeks now, but he's still so nervous around her sometimes, like if he's not careful she'll bite.
She grins, thinking about it; maybe his concern isn't totally unfounded.
She brings her arms up to his chest and says into the fabric of his vest, "What brings you to my humble abode?"
"I've got some samples I need to submit for the trial tomorrow," he says, taking stock of the counter as he talks. He sees a stack of lab reports, all in Ema's chicken scratch, and scattered microscope slides in what is no doubt a meaningful arrangement to Ema but just looks like a mess to Apollo. Most telling, though, is the four empty, crumpled Snackoo bags shoved into the corner. He asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"
She sighs, leaning back against the counter again. He keeps his arms around her waist and she keeps hers against his chest, and she says, "I'm having a bit of day. Elena is out sick, and I got evidence from three new cases this morning and then two more at lunch, and freakin' Klavier Gavin keeps popping in to ask me how it's going, like maybe he can make these DNA analyses process a little faster just by annoying the shit out of me. I mean, scientifically speaking, it's not like I can just--"
"I'm sorry you're having a bad day," he says, cutting her off. He knows nothing good ever starts with scientifically speaking. "And sorry I'm going to make it more hectic, dropping this stuff off."
He drops the bag he'd been holding on the counter, then moves the hand to join his other on her hips.
"All in a day's work, Mr. Justice," she says with a shrug, leaning into him again. Playing with the buttons on his vest, she says, her voice muffled, "I'm probably going to have to cancel dinner tonight."
"Yeah, I figured," he says, a subtle hitch to his voice that he hopes Ema doesn't catch. Her fingers are sliding between the gaps in his vest now, trailing against his chest. Ema couldn't tell you off the top of her head how many days it's been since they first saw each other naked, but Apollo can: It's been twenty-three days. And twenty-three days is still new enough that her fingers running across his clothed chest is enough to excite him, get his heart beating faster.
He rubs his thumb against her hip, pushing under the hem of her skirt. When he meets skin, he hears her let out a pleased little hum, tilting her hips into his touch.
"Does that door lock?" he asks, surprised by his own daring. He holds his breath, waiting for her to reply.
She looks up at him with a cheeky smile. "As a matter of fact, it does. Why ever do you ask?"
He rolls his eyes, but he's blushing furiously. With some difficulty, he moves away from her, going over to lock the door and pull the shade down over the glass insert. He's already hard by the time he walks back over to her, bashful but impossibly aroused.
"So eager," she says, grinning, as she reaches down to palm him through his slacks. He swallows, feeling light-headed at her touch. He leans in to kiss her neck, once, then backs away from her again. She raises a brow, and now he grins, dropping to his knees. The sight of it sends a new tingle of arousal up her legs, swirling in her stomach.
He kisses the inside of her thigh lightly, his lips a whisper against her skin. Working his way upward, he hitches her skirt, bunching it around her waist. Her fingers curl against the edge of the counter as he moves further north, slowly but with a clear destination. With his right hand he skips his fingers across her other thigh, tracing shapeless patterns against her skin. Her breath quickens, anticipation speeding her pulse.
His nose actually reaches her before his mouth, bumping against the fabric of her panties, and she laughs. His fingers dig into her thigh, and she's sure he's blushing, which makes her laugh harder, but it morphs into a moan as he reaches for her with his tongue, pressing against her panties to make contact with her clit. The fabric between his tongue and her skin is rough but not unpleasant, an interesting friction. He loops a finger under the cotton, making to pull it back, and she breathes, "No, leave it."
It's a weird thing to turn him on, but it does, sending a thrill down his spine. He moves his finger instead to glide against her opening through the fabric while his tongue works her clit, and her hips buck forward. He moves his other hand to her hip, holding her against the counter. He presses in with his fingers, the fabric preventing him from doing more than shallowly entering her, barely passing the lips of her entrance. Her hips try to buck again, but this time he's able to hold her still, and she lets out a whimper.
The panties are wet now, where his tongue as been on them, on her. He uses his thumb to press against her clit, resting his head against his her thigh as he takes in the scent of her, sweet but earthy. Heady. With the fabric damp now, the friction isn't as intense, which is good, because she's gotten more sensitive as her arousal has grown. Every flick of Apollo's thumb against her sends a jolt through her, pulls a moan from her lips.
He wants to taste her, he realizes, watching as she squirms under his touch. He takes his hand from her hip, moving it down to undo his zipper, reach inside his slacks to touch himself, twisting his palm roughly over the head. He lets out a gasp at the contact, and his breath on Ema's thigh makes her jerk under him, and she says, her voice shaky and thin, "I want you to--"
He's got his eyes closed now, dragging his hand over his shaft. "You want me to what?"
She doesn't answer, because then his mouth is on her again, pressing against her entrance, and he can taste her on the panties, damp with her arousal. It's familiar, the sweet, salty tang, but it's different, too, mixed with the coarse flavor of the cotton. He moans against her, the vibration making her tremble pleasantly. She realizes, suddenly, that she's having trouble staying on her feet.
"I need to--" she starts, but is cut off by her own surprised, pleasured gasp as Apollo pushes away the panties, needing to taste her without the fabric in the way.
He pushes his tongue into her and her legs tremble. He licks and kisses his way forward, and when his tongue swirls around her clit, she's done, bucking against his mouth as she comes, biting down on her arm so she doesn't cry out and give them away.
He stays on her, slow, gentle touches, until her legs stop shaking. He presses a last kiss against her thigh before he stands, and she reaches for him, pulling him to her and into a kiss, nipping at his lips and running her tongue along his, making happy, contented little moans.
When she goes to reach for him, he backs away, grinning sheepishly. "I, uh, already took care of it."
She notices now that his hand is covered in the evidence of his orgasm, his erection flagging against his thigh. She grins, pressing a quick peck to his cheek, and reaches down to tuck him back into his boxers and pull up his zipper, saving him from making a mess of his pants. As he walks over the sink to clean himself up, she watches him appreciatively, an almost smug satisfaction shaping her lips.
"What are you grinning about?" he asks, walking back over to her. He's one to talk, of course, wearing a shit-eating grin of his own.
"You," she says, and tweaks him on the nose. He blushes, his eyes skirting away from her. She says, "I knew this was going to be a good idea."
"Sex in the lab?" he asks, still shy but able to meet her eyes again.
She laughs. "Well, yes. But I meant me and you, generally."
"Well I'm glad you approve," he says, and she's relieved for the tease in his voice. Thinking back to their earlier conversation, he asks, "Feeling a little better?"
She nods, smiling. He leans in again, and just as their lips are about to meet, there's a pounding at the door and an annoyed German voice calling, "Fräulein!?"
They look at each other for a moment, eyes wide, and then dissolve into giggles.