Just a little fun something I've been playing with for a little while now. I hope you all enjoy! FYI: rated M for a reason. Thanks.

Fingers laced together. Tongues slid easily and hungrily into mouths, over skin. Teeth pinched small bites of flesh causing red blemishes. Breaths were mingled and exhaled in short pants and lengthy moans. Words - mostly of the four-letter and crude variety - slipped off tongues that continued to taste as hands moved to hips and chests. And finally, release was met with a ferocious intensity.

Owen woke to the sound of a sudden gasp followed immediately by a hiss of pain. The surface he was laying on shifted quickly then stilled.

"Shit!" The whispered curse roused him further.

He opened one bleary eye and immediately regretted it as the sunlight, though partially hidden by a flimsy curtain, burned his retina and sent a stabbing pain through his head. He groaned quietly and rolled over to hide from the light. The bed shifted again beneath him and the sound of footsteps, echoing thumps on the hollow floor of his trailer, met his ears.

"Where did you put my bra?" the woman in the room with him whispered angrily.

"I honestly don't remember," he mumbled into a pillow.

His brain conjured up the image of a woman in a dark blue dress. It was professional, but mind-numbingly tight across her back side and hips. The pale skin of her legs ended in tall, beige colored heels. A flash of short red hair whipping around in annoyance. The mental picture matched the voice he was hearing.

His eyes shot open; he ignored the burning pain in his head. Claire Dearing. Slowly, he rolled back over and watched her rummage around his bedroom in her underwear and heels.

"Forget it," she muttered before quickly pulling her dress over her head and down her bare chest. "If you find it, let me know. Actually, don't. Just toss it," she said, zipping up the back of the dress.

He ran a hand over his face as the memories of the night before slowly trickled back into his consciousness. "Oh, man. I think I understand now why you don't like tequila."

She was running her fingers through her tangled hair. It was curly when not styled. It wasn't what he expected. Not that he ever thought he'd see her like this. Well, maybe once. Years ago when they'd first met, he'd had the distance hope of something like this happening.

"Okay," she sighed softly, standing up straighter.

He shifted and raised himself into a seated position, having to adjust the blanket to remain somewhat modest in front of her now.

"I think we can both agree that this, while nice, was-"

"Nice?" he croaked. His throat was dry and scratchy. She was going with nice?

"-Was a mistake and shouldn't happen again."

Claire Dearing was giving him the one night stand blow off? He smiled lazily, thinking this was something he could add and immediately check off his bucket list.

"Why are you smiling?" she asked him. She hid her irritation well.

"I think it's funny that you're standing there acting like we didn't just wake up naked together," he replied with a chuckle. "Also, that you, of all people, are giving me this speech right now."

She rolled her eyes. "Always the charmer, aren't you, Mr. Grady?" she said dryly.

He saw pink tinge her cheeks as she quickly turned around to leave. It made his smile grow.

"I trust you can keep this to yourself?" she called just before slamming the door to his trailer shut behind her. The loud sound made him wince.

...

Two months after Claire left him hung over and naked in his trailer, she showed up at the raptor paddock with Simon Misrani.

"Mr. Grady, thank you for letting us come by," Misrani said as he shook his hand firmly.

Their visit was unexpected but he didn't want that to show. Owen had a nasty habit of never checking his work email. It annoyed Barry to no end and Owen had a suspicion that his partner probably knew damn well about this visit and neglected to tell him as punishment for not reading the memos sent to them.

"It's your island, sir," Owen replied with an easy smile. "You're welcome to stop by whenever you'd like."

"Have you met Miss Dearing, yet?" Misrani asked, motioning to Claire standing next to him. "The Operations Manager."

"We've met," Owen said with a sly smile.

Claire gave him a plain look, not amused. "Mr. Grady has run some requests by me in the past," she explained to her boss. "Usually about increasing their food budget."

Owen shrugged. "We go through a lot of pigs and rats here. I'd like to get some chickens for them too. A deer, maybe."

"And what would that do?" Misrani asked curiously.

"It'd be a new challenge for them and I worry they'll get bored with the pigs. They're intelligent animals. Smarter than anything else that lab has brewed up," he said proudly but also with a hint of disgust. He had no illusions about InGen's creations. They were for profit, not science. "If they aren't properly stimulated then they'll start to lash out which would make working with them even more dangerous."

Misrani nodded, impressed. "That makes sense," he turned to Claire, "and seems like a reasonable request."

She smiled tightly. "Yes, of course. However, as the raptors are not an attraction of the theme park, they don't generate any income. It's difficult to work out those requests within the budget." Her steel blue eyes glided over to Owen. "I'm sure you can understand that," she said smoothly.

He smirked and nodded curtly. "We can manage for now. But if their minds' become too idle, they'll start looking for escape routes out of the paddock to go on a real hunt. And I'm sure no one wants that."

"No," Misrani agreed. "We want them to be happy, don't we Claire? Why don't we talk to our friends in accounting and see what money we can move around?"

"Of course, sir," she replied airily. She lifted the phone that Owen knew was always held at her side and made a note.

"So, can we see them?" Misrani asked with a hushed excitement.

He smirked. "Sure. They're in their pens right now so you came at a good time."

He led them to the secondary gate of the paddock and entered the code for the door to slide to the side.

"Two gates," Misrani observed. "A security redundancy."

Owen nodded. "It's not possible to open the primary gate if the secondary isn't completely shut and vice versa. In theory, there's no way for them to get out of this paddock without someone intentionally letting them out."

"But you're still worried the assets will get bored enough and start hatching an escape plan?" Claire questioned with an incredulous chuckle.

"Like I said, they're the smartest animals on the island. I don't want to give them the chance to figure something out. That's sort of my job," he said, a slight bite to his words.

She looked like she was prepared with a smart remark, but before she could respond, low, echoing hisses sounded from behind her. She and Misrani jumped at the sound and moved quickly away from it. Owen smirked again and walked towards the raptors, in line and heads locked in their pens.

"Christ," Misrani muttered. "I didn't even realize they were there."

"And if they'd been free, they would have stayed that quiet until they were ready to attack you," Owen explained. "They're secure here. You can get closer."

Claire stayed firmly in place, seven or eight feet away. Misrani, a bit braver, maybe, took cautious steps forward.

"What's the purpose of these locks?" he asked. "What does this allow for?"

"After they hunt we lock them in these for a visual inspection. There's someone on the other side of this wall," Owen pressed his hand against the cool steel, "walking around them behind another gate and making sure there aren't any obvious signs of injury."

"May I...?" Misrani asked, hesitating as he lifted his hand towards one of the raptors.

"Absolutely," Owen agreed. "You'll feel her tense up but she can't get to you when she's like this."

Misrani let his palm rest on the dinosaur's snout between the bars of the face mask. "Wow," he said in awe.

"This is Charlie," Owen introduced.

"Claire," Misrani called, "get over here and feel this."

"I'm fine here," she answered.

"Come on, Miss Dearing," Owen taunted. "You can meet Echo. She's the nicest of the group - the most likely to hesitate before killing you."

"Claire, it truly is amazing," Misrani said. He lifted another hand to the raptor's head and began massaging the scaly scalp.

"I really don't think it's necessary."

Owen was impressed with how she kept her cool. She didn't appear afraid, more so indifferent - or as if the whole thing were beneath her. Was she bored? he wondered.

"Just once," Owen told her. "It doesn't have to happen again. It doesn't have to mean anything. I could send someone out for some tequila of you need a little liquid courage," he teased.

She narrowed her eyes at his not so subtle play off their one night stand together.

"I don't drink," she said coldly.

"No?" he asked with a knowing smile. "That's good. Drinking can lead to some unfortunate choices."

"Yes, it can," she agreed.

"Claire, I insist," Misrani said, still enraptured by the creature in front of him. "This is truly a spectacular experience."

"That's good," Owen said, nodding at Charlie as Claire took slow steps forward. "She likes that."

The raptor had her eyes closed in satisfaction as Misrani's fingers lightly scratched at her snout.

Claire was by his side now and he smiled softly, hopefully reassuring her in case she was scared.

"Echo likes it a little softer," Owen said. He ran two fingers between Echo's eyes and up to the top of her head. She let out a long sigh.

Claire raised her hand and copied Owen's actions. Echo huffed suddenly at the new smell of someone nearby.

"It's the vanilla," Owen explained when Claire started at the sound.

"What?" she asked.

"You smell like vanilla," he said quietly. "It must be a soap or lotion you use."

"Lotion," she muttered, eyeing him carefully.

"She can smell it," he explained with a glance at Echo. "And I've smelled it before." One side of his mouth lifted up playfully and he gave her a reckless wink.

Her jawline twitched and she diverted her stare to the raptor. She lifted her hand again to pet the space between the dinosaur's eyes.

...

The afternoon after Claire and Misrani surprised him at the paddock, she surprised him at his door.

"You're an ass," she said as she walked in to his trailer uninvited.

"Thanks?" he said, closing the door and watching her walk into his bedroom.

"Did you ever find my bra?" she asked. She lifted the blanket off the side of his bed and bent over the peek under the frame.

"Yeah," he said, following her into the room. He leaned against the door frame and watched her carefully, wary of her intentions.

"Do you have it?" she asked, quickly standing upright and looking at him expectantly.

"Why?" he asked slowly.

She smiled patiently and took a step towards him. "I need it."

"You suddenly need the bra you left here two months ago?" he asked doubtfully.

"I still have the underwear that matches it," she explained. "I wanted to wear it tonight on my date."

He smiled and his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You want to wear the same underwear I took off of you on a date with another guy?"

"Well," she said, a smirk of her own flitting across her face, "they worked out so well the last time."

He bit his cheek. "Yes they did," he said. "Fair point. But I don't have it anymore. You told me to toss it, remember?"

"I do, but I was hoping you might have some sick one night stand trophy box or something," she said with a dejected sigh.

"Sorry." He shrugged. "Not that much of a creep, I guess."

"Well, you can't blame me for trying," she said, starting forward and edging past him in the doorway. "I guess I'll just have to go braless tonight."

Owen laughed quietly at her comment, knowing she was trying to get a rise out of him. He followed her back to the door.

"You don't have to go so soon, you know," he called, invitingly, to her. "If you've got an itch you can't scratch, you know I'm here for you."

She was outside, halfway to her car when she responded. "Unfortunately for you, Mr. Grady, I'm perfectly capable of scratching that itch myself."

The mental image of Claire Dearing fingering herself on his bed, head thrown back in ecstasy, legs clenching around the hand between them got him halfway hard.

"Yeah, maybe," he said, standing on his porch with his hands in his pockets, trying to keep them from tenting over his growing erection. "But fantasy isn't always better than the real thing."

At her car door she turned back and smiled coyly. "Sorry to disappoint, but my fantasies wouldn't be about you anyway."

She opened the door and quickly slid inside her Mercedes, starting the engine.

"Keep telling yourself that!" he yelled, though he was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to hear him.

She drove off and Owen headed back inside, suddenly feeling like a cold shower would do him some good.

...

"What do you remember about that night?" he asked as he ambushed her at the bar of the ballroom they were in for the Christmas Eve party.

"Mr. Grady," Claire greeted with a tired kindness, ignoring his question.

"Did you get my present?" he asked with a smirk. He'd sent a bottle of tequila to her office that morning with an obnoxiously large red ribbon.

She glanced back at him, tight lipped. "I did. Very funny."

"I thought you might get a kick out of it," he said casually as he raised his empty beer bottle to the bartender, asking for another. "You didn't answer my question."

She gave him a leveled, almost impassive look. "Hardly anything. It was six months ago, after all."

"See? Now, don't you find that annoying?" he asked in a hushed voice. "We had sex and we can't even remember if it was worth repeating or not."

She rolled her eyes, fighting a smile. "I don't think I need a repeat."

Owen nodded slowly and leaned his weight against the top of the bar. "So, that date you went on a few of months back...that went alright for you?"

She hesitated and cocked her head to the side. "That really isn't any of your business," she replied.

He smiled a wolffish grin. "That bad, huh?" He straightened upright again. "Worse than our date?"

"No," she scoffed. "I've never had another date that bad."

"Glad to know I've left an impression," he said lightly. "Unfortunately, I have had worse."

Claire looked momentarily offended. "It wasn't me that was the problem on our date."

"You brought an itinerary!" he argued, still smiling. He'd learned anytime he got the chance to tease or annoy Claire to make the most of it.

"I like to be organized. You're the one that wore board shorts," she said snidely.

"Yeah, well, now I know that you prefer to undress me when I'm in a suit," he said with an easy smile.

"I don't know that I was the one that took your clothes off," she said slowly. He happily noticed her tone and expression were now playful.

"That's the problem!" he insisted. "I don't know either. Seriously, do you remember anything that happened?"

He could tell she was stifling a smile as she turned to him and stepped marginally closer. She was still using that vanilla body lotion, he noticed.

"Let's see," she began. She raised a hand and placed it on the lapel of his jacket, probably smoothing out a wrinkle only she could and would ever see. "We were at Masrani Global's fundraiser for wildlife conservation. You handed me a drink which tasted awful."

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed off. "I remember all that. Get to the good part."

She sighed. "All I really remember is sloppy kisses and hands that couldn't stay still," she said quietly in this sultry way that had him picturing what she was wearing under her green dress.

"Mine or yours?" he quipped with a sly grin.

She smiled, biting her lip, and glanced around the room. "It's hard to say."

"What gets me is that, if I try really hard, I can almost hear your breaths in my ear," he said, lowering his voice. He raised his hand to lazily gestured towards his ear. The corners of his lips upturned slightly. "But for the life of me, I can't remember what it feels like to be inside of you."

He was watching her intently, so he saw when her pupils dilated in response to his words. Her eyes scanned over the people around them; Owen had blocked them out. She leaned in closer to him.

"It is a shame. And while I don't remember much about your tongue, you left a nice bite mark on my inner thigh."

"And I had your scratches across my back for a week," he countered.

"Clearly it was very passionate," she said.

"Makes you wonder what it'd be like sober."

"Would you even know what to do with me if you didn't have some of that liquid courage you love so much?"

"You strike me as the kind of woman who likes to tell a guy exactly what she expects," he said. "So go ahead. Tell me."

She smirked again. "I may not be afraid to say what I want, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't rather have a man who didn't need me to tell him."

"Alright, then, come by my place later and let me see what I can do," he offered. The side of his mouth lifting in a cautious smile.

"Sober?" she asked almost mockingly.

"I'll stop drinking now," he said. He pushed his beer bottle away from him.

She stared him down with a smirk and a laugh bubbling up in her throat. "Have a drink, Mr. Grady. Enjoy yourself," she said. She leaned closer and dropped her volume to a whisper that made him lean down to hear. "Because whether we remember it or not, that was the last time you'll get to fuck me into your bed."

She took a step back and smiled politely. "Have a nice evening."

She walked away, leaving him stranded by the bar as he thought of her legs wrapped around him and her hands clawing at his back as he drove himself harder and faster into her on top his mattress. He didn't know if it was a memory or fantasy, but either way it was a fun thought.

He didn't drink for the rest of the night, hoping that by some miracle she might show up at his door later. But he had no such luck and he fell asleep alone.

Please review with your thoughts! Thanks again!