Not my best work, but the plotline wouldn't leave me alone.

Warning: Smut. Duh.

They were fighting again. Gillian sat on the couch in Cal's office, thumb and finger gripping the bridge of her nose, trying to cope with the anger she was feeling. She really shouldn't be reacting this way, she knew that, but her temper was short these days and he just got on her nerves like no one else in the world.

"So are you saying it's not your fault?" she asked.

"No, I'm saying that you're overreacting."

Anger flashed through her. "Overreacting? Cal, you jeopardized the financial future of this company. Again."

"So what else is new? I do that all the time; you've never stormed into my office in the middle of the night to rail on me about it before. If I didn't know better I'd think you just needed a shag," he said, goading her. She felt another flash of anger, this one much stronger than the last, but before she could retaliate, he said, "Oh." His whole demeanor changed, went from pissed off to prying in a second. He plopped down beside her on the couch and gestured at her face. "That was interesting. I really didn't mean for that to hit so close to the mark. How long's it been, then?"

"Cal," she said, with a warning in her voice.

"A month?" He studied her face. "No, longer. Three months? Six?" A flicker on her face told him he had hit it spot on. "You've only been divorced since September."

"And were you and Zoe having sex until the day you got divorced?"

"You really don't want to know the answer to that, love. So, six months. No wonder you're so bloody tense."

"I really don't see how that's any of your business." She tried to sound angry, but more than anything she wanted to know where he was going with this. She knew she should leave. Walk out of there right now, because talking about her sex life, or lack thereof, with Cal was an absolutely terrible idea. But something on his face was stopping her. Usually in intense moments like this, his eyes would wander all over her face, flicking to her mouth and cheeks and forehead to pick up any minute indication of her thoughts. But right now his eyes were locked on hers. There was something he wanted her to see in his face, more than he wanted to see anything in hers. He scooted very close to her, putting an arm on the back of the couch.

"It doesn't have to be this way, darling." And suddenly she saw it in his face, the intention he had wanted to show her. Her heart began racing: from arousal, yes, but also a deep, gripping terror.

"We can't, Cal." They couldn't. Sex with Cal would be a mistake. Because they couldn't separate the sex from the feelings, and they couldn't separate feelings from a relationship, and a relationship with Cal Lightman was guaranteed to go down in flames.

"I'm not talking about us shagging, Gill." She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but she had seen the intention in his eyes, their faces inches apart. Something else was coming.

"Then what are you talking about?" She took a deep, shaky breath in to calm her nerves, but that turned out to be a mistake. He smelled nice. Clean and spicy. And she knew there was no way he could miss the way her pupils were dilating.

"There's something you need, Gill. And I can give it to you. I want to give it to you." His hand had fallen to her knee. "Let me get you off. And you can walk out of here and we'll forget it ever happened."

"We won't."

"We will. I swear to you, I will never bring it up again. I just want to make you come." He watched her mouth fall slightly open, both in surprise, and intense arousal. "D'you like that?" he asked as he slid his hand up her leg, just under the hem of her skirt. "Sweet little Foster like a bit of dirty talk?" He had stopped moving his hand, waiting for some response from her. Though he'd never admit it, he was scared too. Scared she'd run, or push him away. But then, almost without meaning to, she uncrossed her legs. Taking that as his sign, he pushed his hand higher up her thigh, until his fingers were brushing her leg just millimeters from her underwear. "Tell me you haven't imagined it. Imagined us. I do. I imagine what it would feel like to touch you, to be inside you. I imagine what you would sound like when you came." He was still waiting for her, waiting to hear her say yes. He needed confirmation that this was what she wanted.

"Please," whispered Gillian. He grinned.

"Please what, Gill?"

"Please touch me, Cal."

He didn't need telling twice. His fingers pushed her adorably chaste cotton panties aside and stroked her labia, coming up to circle her clit. Her head fell back against his arm, eyes closed, as his thumb made circles on her nub. His other fingers dipped down, and he groaned when he felt how wet she was.

"You are just the sexiest creature alive, d'you know that? Never wanted anyone like I want you." He pushed into her, and she cried out. It felt so good. She had always imagined that Cal would be a good lover, when he wanted to be. When you could see every microexpression of pleasure, her reaction to your every move, then you always knew what your partner wanted. Always knew exactly what was working for her, and to what degree. And Cal was only using one hand, barely touching her otherwise, and it was still amazing. Before too long, she gripped his arm tightly, just on the brink.

And he stopped. Or, didn't stop all the way. But he slowed down, drew her back from the edge. "Cal!" she cried out, desperate.

"Patience, love. Best moment of my life, here, don't want it to be over too fast."

"Best moment of your life?"

"Well, second-best," he amended, because nothing could have beat the day he became a father and both of them knew that. But since bringing Emily up at a time like this wasn't really going to do anything for the mood, Cal went on. "The way you feel, Gill – beyond my wildest dreams, it is." His fingers were just stroking her labia now. Teasing again. "You know, I wasn't totally truthful before."

"I'm shocked," said Gillian, surprised she could still muster up some sarcasm even in this state.

"Oi, just for that," he said, and took his hand away from her entirely. Before she even had time to protest, he slid his hand under her, and his other arm dropped down to grip her around the middle, and he shifted her so she was sitting between his legs, back against his chest. Now that Cal had learned what she liked, he didn't need to see her face anymore. And he had something – bigger – that he wanted to convey to her.

Gillian gasped at what she felt when he pulled her against himself. She had expected an erection, but this… Even through his jeans she could tell he was huge. Huge and rock hard. His fingers were pressing her clit again, and she cried out from the sudden surge of pleasure, digging her nails into his legs.

"Do you feel what you do to me, Gillian? How much I want you?" He bent his head down to kiss the side of her neck, letting his stubble scrape the sensitive skin there. She leaned her head back against his shoulder to give her more access, glad that he had gone back to touching her. His fingers worked furiously, and his mouth too, sucking and nipping, until she was at the brink yet again.

And yet again, he backed off. She groaned, irritated that her orgasm had been stolen away from her a second time. "Caaaallll…" she complained.

"Aye, you're losing track of the point here."

"Which is?"

"I wasn't truthful, remember?" His lips were brushing the shell of her ear, his fingers had gone back to gentle touches, and at that moment she didn't give a damn if every word he'd said had been a lie.

But clearly he wasn't going to move on unless she played along, so she asked, "About what?"

"Well, I said that after this was over we'd forget it ever happened." Gillian tensed. She was afraid Cal was about to say something that would ruin what they where doing. "Oh, no, darling, don't worry, I wasn't lying about never mentioning it. Far as our friendship goes, this-" he applied infuriatingly brief pressure to her clit, making her cry out, "never happened. But I won't ever forget." He brought his free hand up to her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw. Later, when she played the events of this night over in her mind, she would realize he was gauging her pulse and skin temperature, to see if what he was about to say next would excite or disgust her. "When I get home tonight, I'm going to take this hand-" he fluttered the fingers that had been brushing her labia, "and I'm going to touch myself." Cal felt her heart rate quicken, felt a blush across her neck. He heard the sharp gasp of surprise, followed by the shallow breathing of intense arousal. He smiled.

"You really do like a bit of dirty talk, don't you, love? Well," he went on, his voice husky, "I'm going to go home, and I'm going to go over every second of this night in my head. And my cock's going to get hard. As hard as it is right now," he pushed his hips forward to punctuate the statement, "and I'm going to take this hand and stroke my cock, thinking about you. I'm going to wank with you in my head."

Gillian thought she might combust from arousal. She'd never been so turned on in her life. Or so frustrated, because he still wasn't really touching her. She squirmed, trying to push her hips into his hand. She even moved one of her own hands down to cover his through her skirt and make him touch her harder. But she only got a second of relief before his other hand put a stop to that.

"Aye, none of that. You asked for my help, love; we're going to do this my way. It'll be worth it, I promise." Gillian whimpered, but stopped fighting him. "That's my girl, now, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, I'm going to wank and think about you. Wouldn't be the first time, darling. Or even the hundredth. But this time is going to be special. Because now, I know. I don't have to imagine what kind of sounds you make when you're turned on." He applied pressure to her clit yet again, eliciting one of those sounds. "I won't have to wonder just how tight you are," he pushed a finger inside of her, "I'll know. Sure, some things I'll still have to imagine, like what you'd feel like sliding up and down my cock. Or what your breasts look like," he murmured, angling his head down to look at the aforementioned cleavage. "But it'll be so much better than it ever was before. And when I come, your name is going to be on my lips. Just like my name will be on yours in just a few minutes."

"Cal- please."

"Alright, love," he said, his tone changing from seductive to tender. Then he went after her. His fingers pumped in and out of her, his thumb abusing her clit. She tilted her head back against his shoulder again, and he watched her face, watched her bite her lip as her climax approached again. "It's okay, darling, nobody's here. Scream all you like." His other arm held her tight to him as he pressed his face into her hair, curling his fingers inside her at exactly the right angle. "Come on, Gillian. Let me hear it." And then her orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks. Bricks made of lightning.

"Cal!" she shouted, arching her back and pushing her ass into his crotch. He groaned, both at the feeling, and at the look of bliss on her face. He had never seen anything more beautiful. And suddenly, despite the joy and desire he was feeling, a pang of sadness shot through him. Because he knew he would never see it again.

His fingers were still inside her when she finally came down from her earth-shattering climax. When he had finally coaxed the last tremor from her body, Cal gently removed his fingers. Slowly, without a word, he repositioned her underwear, drew his hand out from under her skirt, and spread it modestly back over her lap. He looked down at her, still with her eyes closed, panting. His other arm still had a tight grip on her, which he was loath to release. He knew he only had a few moments left before she was gone for good, and he savored every bit of closeness.

"Can you stand, love?"

She let out a deep exhale, and leaned forward to stand on shaky legs. The movement made her press against his erection again, and she blushed. She noticed, gratefully, that he didn't make a noise when it happened. He had no intention of guilting her into returning the favor. She was glad, because she felt guilty enough as it was. When she had taken a step forward, he stood too. She turned to face him, feeling like the least she could do was say something, instead of fleeing without a word. But what could she say?

"Thank you." It seemed odd, but it was really what she was feeling. He was right, she had needed that.

"Wasn't a chore, darling. Not even a bit." He touched her cheek – with the hand that had not been between her legs, she noticed – and smiled. She was struck with how tender his expression was. And before she even had time to think about why or what it would mean, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It was soft and gentle, just like a first kiss ought to be. Incredibly chaste, considering what had just happened between them. And it felt perfect, at least for the few seconds before it really hit Gillian what was going on, and she pulled away. But she caught a look on his face: eyes closed for just a moment too long, eyebrows pulled together for a fraction of a second – sadness. Sadness, and a terrifying, bottomless longing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

And turned and left.