Welcome To The Harem
Let Me Take You Home Tonight by SLS
Summary: "...for one night, they felt no pain. No grief. No disappointment." Doggett/Reyes, pre-XF, R.
Title: Let Me Take You Home Tonight
Classification: S, A
Rating: R for sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Doggett & Reyes don't belong to me; they belong to 1013. I just enjoyed watching them on-screen and playing with them in my mind. ;)
Summary: "...for one night, they felt no pain. No grief. No disappointment."
Notes: This story is pre-XF and takes place during the time when D&R worked together to find Doggett's son in New York. I also tinkered with how long it took them to find Luke. This also fulfills my (almost) 100-lines-of-smut punishment for my pals at IWTB, proving even a "read-only" can write fic if she's forced to. ;) Finally, the title is borrowed from my favorite song by the group Boston.
Feedback: I'd be giddy with glee. Send it to firstname.lastname@example.org
Archive: IWTB, XFMU, The Vision, Gossamer, Spookys. Everyone else, please let me know so I can come see.
Thanks: To my 2 absolutely fab-u-lous betas - MeridyM and jeri. Meridy, you were just the right combo of English teacher ;) & gentle hand-holder and telling me my Doggett was believable was just what I needed to hear! Many grateful thanks for all your help along the way too. jeri - this story has its roots in that infamous "conversation in the car" driving back from Rae's wedding in AC. Thanks, sweetie, for letting me babble - this is the fruition of that babbling. ;) Thanks also for giving this the once over with the "red pen." ;) You ladies both ROCK! Many HUGS to ya!
Lastly, a special "shout out" to my dear friends Megan & Polly who encouraged me more than they realize as I wrote this. Enjoy your first Doggett fic! ;)
Let Me Take You Home Tonight
"John," she said, no louder than a whisper. "Let me take you home tonight."
John Doggett stared straight ahead at the road. "I don't want to go home," he said flatly. "There's nothing there for me now."
His wife Barbara had moved out to stay with her sister nearly two weeks ago, and Doggett hadn't spent many nights in his own bed since then, choosing instead to spend most nights on the couch in the locker room at the police station.
Monica Reyes looked back to the wet road illuminated by the headlights. They had just left the county coroner's office where Luke Doggett's remains, discovered hours before in the woods near the Doggetts' Long Island home, were waiting for autopsy. After they'd gone together to the morgue, Doggett had wanted to go back to the station to go over their report, but Reyes had offered to drive him home instead.
Now, she wasn't so sure home was where he should go tonight after all.
"John, if you won't go home, then you can stay on my couch tonight," Reyes insisted. "I don't want you to be by yourself right now."
Doggett nodded his head slightly, accepting to her suggestion. His shoulders were heavy with grief. For his son. For his marriage which had been slowly eroding even before Luke first went missing nearly a month ago. For the lingering disappointment in himself he now wore like a second skin.
A hefty silence filled the car as Reyes drove. She stared out the window as they passed the suburban houses with children's bicycles and other toys in the yard. A deep sigh escaped from her throat and she blinked back some tears that were forming in her eyes. She could never understand the depth of John's sorrow, but despite the short time she had spent with him searching for his son, she'd felt the penetrating loss in her heart too once their search had reached its resolution.
Reyes pulled the car up in front of her apartment building. She got out and walked around to the passenger side. "John," she said softly as she opened the door. Doggett slowly stepped out of the car and walked in front of Reyes to the front door, then up a flight of stairs to her apartment. She unlocked the door and they made their way inside, where she shook off her coat and freed her tired, aching feet from her heels.
"I'll get some sheets," she told Doggett, as he absently sat himself down on the couch. Coming back a few minutes later with a blanket and pillow in hand, she found him just staring at the wall, completely silent, still wearing his trench coat.
"John, are you OK?" Reyes asked, walking over and sitting down next to him. Doggett turned to her and opened his mouth, but said nothing.
"John, I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you right now..." she began. Before she could say any more, Doggett's face crumpled as he began to speak.
"I couldn't do anything...I couldn't stop it...I couldn't save him," he said quietly. "I let him down." His face drooped down so Reyes could no longer see into his eyes, and his shoulders began to shake.
"John, don't do this to yourself," she said, rubbing her hand along his arm. Suddenly, he pulled her hand back away from his arm and held it tightly by the wrist. His shaking abruptly stopped.
"Why am I here? Why did you bring me here, Monica?" he asked, his eyes penetrating into hers.
Reyes took another deep breath before answering. "Because you need a friend right now," she said evenly. "And I wanted you to know you're not alone."
Doggett let go of her wrist and stared back down into his lap. His chest heaved up and down as he sighed in and out. After a few moments, he looked up, turned and embraced her. Wrapping his arms around Reyes' shoulders, he buried his nose in her hair and breathed deeply as she absently rubbed his upper back with one hand.
"John, just let it out," Reyes said. He slowly leaned back, placed both hands on the side of her face and gave her a light kiss on the lips. Reyes took a slight gasp of breath, but when he leaned in for another just a few seconds later, she didn't stop him.
This time, his kiss was more insistent. More urgent. Deeper. Longer. His hand roamed into her hair and held her face close until they were forced to take a breath.
As he stared into her eyes, he silently asked her questions - "Can we? Should we?" - and answered them for her. "Yes."
Her hands went to Doggett's trench coat collar. She pushed the coat off his shoulders, down off his arms, and it landed on the floor next to the couch. Then, taking his hand, she led him from the living room, down the hall into her bedroom. She reached for the light, but his hand abruptly stopped her.
She slowly began peeling the clothes off of him - first his sport coat, then his tie, his dress shirt, then his pants. As she removed each piece, she felt a new level of excitement--and a new level of guilt.
'This is for him' she told herself. '*He* needs this. This is not for you.' But she couldn't deny the arousal building inside her at the thought of making love to a man she was very attracted to and had become close with in such a short time. She also couldn't deny the guilt that pricked her at the same time. However, as she undressed him, her guilt faded, replaced only by the immense rush of desire she felt.
Leaving only his white T-shirt and boxers, she was stopped by Doggett's hand. Without speaking a word, he then began to ease off her clothing - until he had stripped her naked. Then he slowly walked her backwards until the back of her knees met the edge of the bed.
They fell softly onto the mattress. He leaned in and resumed the desperate, urgent kisses he'd started on the couch earlier. He held the sides of her face, pushing her head deep into the soft pillows. She could no longer hold back her urge to complete what he'd begun. Fumbling at his undershirt, she broke free from him long enough to strip it over his head. He took his hands away from her face and slid his boxers off, eventually leaving no clothing between them.
Hovering just above her naked form, his lips began to place quick, fierce kisses all over her body. First her face, down her neck, over her breasts - one nipple, then the other - and down a path to her stomach where he stopped for a moment just above the auburn curls there. Reyes positioned her fingers in his hair, as if helping to hold him there for as long as she could.
"Oh, God. Oh, John," she moaned. "Don't stop. Please."
He followed her pleading command with equal urgency. His eager ferocity was arousing her as much as the physical acts he was performing with his lips and mouth. And this arousal became quite clear to him as he gently nipped around her wet center.
Finally, she couldn't wait for him any longer. Her entire body demanded the intensity he'd been showing her so far in small doses. She grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to be eye level with her.
But, before she could say anything, he spoke first. "Monica, let me love you."
Neither of them spoke after that. Closing his eyes, he guided himself into her - slowly at first, then increasing the pace with each thrust. The only sounds heard were their panting breaths and an occasional soft whimper from her until they climaxed together.
All the anger he felt, all the pain he held within him, all the guilt he had was forgotten for the remainder of that evening. All there was in this moment was comfort and mutual pleasure. It was a temporary abandon of the loss he had experienced, but one they mutually enjoyed. There in her arms and in her bed, she made him whole again, even if just for a moment, a short-lived satisfaction. His guilt, his pain and his loss resurfaced all too soon with the daylight that broke just a few hours later.
When she awoke that next morning, he was gone, only the faint smell of his aftershave and the afterscent from their lovemaking left in her bed. He had left soon after she'd drifted asleep. No note. No explanation, but she didn't expect one. She knew they had merely been vessels for each other to retreat from the reality of the present day. And now that reality had returned with the rising sun.
Wrapping herself in a silk robe, she walked over to her bedroom window and stared into the bright morning beginning outside, wondering where he would go from here, where she would go, what would happen when they met again. Would they ever speak of their one night together? How could she face Barbara? Could she face John again? Those answers, she didn't know.
All she knew was that he'd let her take him home last night. And for one night, they felt no pain. No grief. No disappointment. The memory of what happened would probably haunt her with guilt later.
But for now, she closed her eyes and reflected on the brief moments when she and John gave each other sweet escape. And in those moments, she knew he was at peace.