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If Derek has one name for her, he has a hundred. Baby girl, baby doll, precious -- she's lost track of them all. She just knows, when he looks at her with that grin, or checks in from the field, she doesn't hear the name. Not anymore. She hears the promise lying in wait. The low, easy, sugared promise of afternoons in bed, the smooth glide of his cock into her body, and fingers touching and stroking until she screams.
He's really not supposed to do that at work. Derek has standing orders not to grin, smirk, or talk to her in any tone of voice that's guaranteed to make her hot.
Derek never listens.
Emily asks her to run something down. It's -- kind of unofficial. Meaning, kind of not particularly legal. Since the FBI frowns on that sort of thing - literally. Hotch has a 'look' just for her. - she waits until the server traffic's just right.
She hops in, zips around, dancing around firewalls and security protocols like Baryshnikov on Speed and god she loves this.
"Hey, baby girl."
Garcia yelps. Derek's voice silky soft, right in her ear, and hoooomigod. She shivers, spinning around. He's grinning, wicked and yep, she's in trouble. She knows that look. "Oh, no, no you don't."
"Don't what?" asks Derek. "I'm not doin' a thing." He leans in, hands on her chair, and she squirms. "Well, I'm visiting my favorite girl."
She grins, pointing a finger at him. He nips at it, playful. "We agreed."
Kissing her finger, he sucks it into his mouth, his tongue sliding down and around. Oh, he is so very bad. The way he watches her, eyes wicked, like he knows she can't say no. He's right. The jerk. The big, hot, oh-god-so-going-to-fuck-her-at-work-and-make-her-come-so-hard-she-blacks-out, jerk. "We didn't agree, Penelope." He smirks, leaning over to kiss her. "We tabled the discussion for later."
Oh. Right. She remembers that night. Something got tabled all right. She still can't look at it without getting wet.
God, the things that man can do... "You are a bad influence on me."
He kneels in front of her. Oh god, oh god, oh god, he is not gonna -- dammit, why did she wear pants today? Stupid pants. Stupid, stupid pants. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it's the other way around. Never thought about doing this before you."
She snorts. "Oh yeah, you did."
Derek laughs, his fingers at her pants. "Okay, maybe I did, but I promise, baby girl, I saved the best ones for you."
Oh, she is so going to get hell for this, but -- she lifts her hips, helping him. This is so one of her favorite fantasies, though, usually there are handcuffs involved and he looks so good cuffed into her chair.
"Mm, I think I like that look." He guides her legs apart and she shifts forward. He shakes his head, looking at her with undisguised want in his eyes. "Damn girl."
Laughing, Garcia grabs his t-shirt and pulls him closer. "Just shut up and get down to business, Agent Morgan. I'm on the clock."
He grins, kissing her. "Damn, I love it when you give orders."
She gives him a little shove, pushing him downward. "I'll remember that later."
"Promises, promises," says Derek, reaching between her legs. She bites her lip, waiting for the first brush of his fingertips against her clit. When it comes, she hisses. Her head pushes back into the seat, her hips canting forward. "There you are." His voice roughens, deepens, and she knows that voice. That's the guy who comes home from a case and spends the weekend lost in finding new ways to make her come, letting her wipe the memories away.
She breathes his name, reaching for him blindly. He beats her hands away, and she knows, but still isn't ready for it.
His mouth, hot, and wet makes her bite her lip against the scream.
Much later, when she can talk, he's beneath her, and they're sticky and hot, she looks down at him. Derek grins at her from the floor, light and alive. "Damn, baby girl, the things you do to me -- "
"Are probably illegal in several states." Garcia grins. "Wanna live dangerously?"
"With you?" Derek laughs. "Always."
She grins. "Good. Cause you and your 'I've just been fucked through the floor' grin have to get to the elevator and past a room full of profilers."
God, he's cute when he panics.