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You pushed your chair away from your desk with a heavy sigh, rubbing at your face with both hands. What a day. You took your phone out of your pocket and checked the time. 6:47 p.m. Oh, that’s late. You lifted up your head and looked around you, to the mostly empty station. Most people had left for home around 30 minutes ago. Not you, though. You had the worst hours known to mankind tonight, and still had about several hours left to go on your shift. What a fucking nightmare.
You could hear the faint conversation between the officers on night duty up at the front desk, quietly discussing something unintelligible from a distance, but otherwise the place was completely quiet. It was a relief, if you were being honest. You felt like you were able to breathe for the first time in days.
There was a constant tense atmosphere at the station this week, with the ever growing pressure to solve the latest murder mystery looming over the heads of everyone involved in the case.
Detective Harkness had to be the most stressed one of all, being head of the case. She was constantly on edge, taking out her frustration on anyone who dared to cross her path. And that, most of the time, was you.
You had been allowed to stay in the case, which was so good for your learning process and future career, but it also meant that you had to shadow Detective Harkness and that made you a very easy target for her anger.
It didn’t help that her irritability made you nervous and when you were nervous you fucked up and when you fucked up she got increasingly pissed off at you. She hated you, clearly. Maybe wanted you to die, a little bit.
And she had shown no signs of remembering the night you spent at her house a couple of weeks ago. Not that you cared. You totally didn’t care if she remembered it or not. It was just a one night stand, right? She had you on your knees and humiliated you deliciously and fucked you until you saw stars. But it didn’t have to mean anything.
It only meant that there had been an added layer of tension, at least on your side, and it was driving you insane.
After a particularly heated argument you could not even remember the point of, Detective Harkness had put you on desk duty, which sucked, but it had worked in your favor because there was nothing you wanted more than to avoid her insufferable presence, so you had been glad to bury yourself into menial tasks such as organizing your drawers and going through the paperwork sitting on her desk. It was your job, anyway, to help her sort through that kind of thing, even if it was the most annoying part of the job. You wanted to be out in the field, discussing cases and learning from your superiors, but she’d only let you out of your little corner when she decided your punishment (you tried not to think too hard about the word) was over.
So you had kept yourself busy with the immense pile of her case files. It was a soul-crushingly boring task, but at least you hadn’t heard of Harkness for most of your shift. A bright side to all of this.
The not so bright side is that Detective Harkness’ paperwork was ridiculous, all messy handwriting and incomplete forms. She was a competent officer, and had an impressive career, but that clearly did not extend to the parts of the job that were not as exciting for her. And that left her poor intern, you, with a mountain of crap to figure out and file away.
You still had a few hours to go until your shift ended and you desperately needed some time-out and a cup of coffee. Your head was starting to pulse around your temples and your eyes were heavy with exhaustion — if you didn’t put some caffeine into your body you wouldn’t make it out alive.
You made your way to the coffee break room and towards the old and wonky coffee machine that needed to be manhandled sometimes to work, but it was something at least. The coffee itself was not all that great either, but It was not meant to taste good, it was meant to wake you up and keep you warm and it did the job well enough. You took a sip of the bland tasting, cheap coffee and promised you’d treat yourself to a nice, fancy caramel iced latte from the coffee shop downtown as soon as this case was over.
You walked out of the room, cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other, using your small break to scroll through your apps, looking for anything interesting happening out in the world. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing. Only more of the same, and another invitation to go out with your friends from college that you’d have to decline. You did not have the time for happy hour drinks when you were still buried up to your neck in a pile of paperwork. But the thought bummed you out. Maybe you could sneak out of work an hour early, if no one was watching you, and meet them for a last drink? You started typing out a message to them using only one hand, and only noticed a moment too late that someone was in your way, and your body collided against theirs.
The impact was not all that strong, but it startled you all the same, and your grip on your cup faltered. It splashed all over your chest, soaking your white dress shirt in coffee, before crashing onto the ground and breaking into two pieces.
“Oh, shit,” you hissed. The coffee was not boiling hot, thank god, but it still burned you and you winced in pain as you fanned yourself. Your white dress shirt was completely ruined, with a huge dark stain right in the middle, sticking to your skin uncomfortably, and your bra was sopping wet, too.
“What is your problem?”, you look up, only now noticing that the person you ran into was Detective Harkness herself, and she was looking at you like you had just spilled acid on the both of you. There was a similar, albeit smaller, wet coffee stain on her stomach. Oh you were fucked. If she had been stressed before, now she was absolutely fuming.
“Detective, I’m so sorry, I was distracted—”
“Clearly,” she spit.
Anger rose inside you and, before you could think better, you snapped, “well, you weren’t being careful either, were you?”
Her eyebrows raised. She licked her lips, nostrils flaring, definitely pissed off at you for talking back at her. You lowered your eyes, not true in submission, but in a show of it at least – but damage was done, and now there was definitely no way you’d make it out alive tonight. And neither would your favorite cup, may it rest in pieces.
The Detective’s eyes traveled down to your shirt, staying there for a moment longer than necessary. Your face blushed as red as your burned chest.
“Go fix your mess,” she said, finally looking back up at your face, commanding tone sending a traitorous shiver down your spine. You simply nodded in response, scrambling to pick up the pieces of ceramic off the floor and throw them into the trash can.
You headed downstairs to the locker room, seething with rage, hoping you still had that spare t-shirt in your bag to change into. If you didn’t you would absolutely be leaving work early and taking refuge at the bar with your friends. There was no way you’d stay at work so uncomfortably wet, smelling like coffee and completely humiliated by Agatha Harkness — this time in a much more unpleasant way than you wished it had been.
You unbuttoned your shirt and let it fall off your body to the floor with a heavy, moist thump, along with your bra. The chill of the room made your wet skin prickle, and your nipples harden.
You ran a hand down your chest, inspecting your skin for any signs of a more serious injury. There was nothing but some redness and sensitive skin. You rubbed a finger on a spot that had a bright red shine to it, very close to your left nipple, and hissed with the sharp pain it elicited.
You saw some movement in the corner of your eye and noticed Agatha, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with dark, dark eyes. You jumped, startled, and crossed your arms in front of your chest in instinct. You grimaced with pain, but did not uncross them, feeling too exposed with your tits out in front of her like that. Her eyes were still on them, nonetheless.
Before you could say anything, she spoke, “This has been one hell of a week,”
You kept quiet, staring at her with an expression very similar to a poor deer, red from your chest all the way up to your ears. She continued, “one fucking hell of a week. I’m so stressed I could snap someone’s neck in half.”
You gulped.
“And you just had to make it worse, didn’t you?”
You had been trying your best to not do anything wrong again, to not make her snap at you, and somehow you ruined it. Not by yourself, actually, because if she had been watching where she was going too this wouldn’t have happened. And you were angry, too. Angry and wet and half naked in the middle of the station’s locker room, and you wanted to scream.
“You haven’t exactly been a ray of sunshine, either,” you said, your voice strained. Agatha huffed, stepping closer and closer to you. You felt like that deer again, now being stalked by a wolf. She looked down at the pile of your clothes on the floor.
“Making more of a mess, I see,” Agatha said. She only stood half a foot away from you now. “Pick that up.”
You took in a deep, shuddering breath. Her tone left no room for argument and, deciding to not fight back and just do as you were told, you lowered yourself, kneeling on the ground to pick up your discarded clothes. Only before you could, you felt Agatha’s fingers trailing down your cheek and around your jaw, until they grasped your chin firmly and pulled your face up. The look in her eyes was somehow darker, pupils dilated in the middle of her sky blue eyes.
Oh.
She said nothing, caressing your bottom lip with her thumb and smirking when your lips parted automatically to let her fingers in. You would have been embarrassed by your instant wanton reaction to her, if you weren’t already halfway gone to a much, much better state mentally. Your anger started to dissipate and be replaced by a delicious, mushy feeling. You had missed her hands on you more than you’d like to admit, and you’d do anything she wanted, as long as she kept touching you.
Her pointer and middle fingers brushed against your mouth, pulling on your bottom lip and then pushing in, pressing down on your tongue gently at first, and then more firmly when she felt how your body relaxed at the feeling of the digits in your mouth. You licked them from end to tip, swirling your tongue in between, and sucking until your cheeks hollowed.
Agatha’s eyes were hungry. She pushed her fingers in and out, in and out, essentially fucking your mouth deeper and deeper each time until she could feel the back of your throat on her fingertips, and you gagged around her hand. The sound seemed to rupture something inside of her, and she pulled her fingers off of your mouth abruptly and lifted you to your feet.
Agatha turned you around, shoving your body against the line of lockers, and the cold metal felt soothing on your skin, but made your nipples harden almost painfully. One of her hands wrapped around your neck while the other swiftly undid the button and zipper of your pants. She wasted no time, pushing her hand under the fabric of your panties.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” Agatha groaned, almost a moan, mouth hot against your ear. “What did it for you, hm? Was it being on your knees for me that made you this wet?”
Your only response was a whimper, the sensation of her fingers caressing slowly through you leaving very few brain cells active for you to work with.
“Or was it having that pretty mouth full?” She continued. When you didn’t say anything again, her movements stopped. “Answer me.”
“Yes, detective,” you said, voice weak, breathless, stupid with desire.
“Yes to what?”
“I— both. Yes. Please, keep going,” you knew you were making no sense, and Agatha didn’t seem to expect you to be articulate either. She chuckled and started moving her hand once again. She had decided she was done teasing you, and slid two fingers inside of you with no warning.
You moaned, too loud for the public space you were in, but you found yourself unable to care when Agatha’s fingers were reaching all of the delicious spots inside of you, and the tightness of your pants helped push the heel of her hand against your clit. Her mouth was on your neck, kissing and licking and nipping occasionally, sucking on your pulse point hard enough to leave a bruise you had no idea how you’d hide later from your other coworkers.
“My favorite shirt is now ruined because of you,” Agatha said, and licked your neck again. “What do you say?”
You scoffed, too petulantly for someone who had a hand wrapped around her neck and two fingers fucking her relentlessly. “It was your fault, too!”
Agatha bit down on your shoulder, hard. You yelled, both pain and pleasure mixing up together and making your head spin. “I’m— I’m sorry,” you managed to say.
“Good girl,” Agatha smirked. Her body pressed against your back, warm and firm, but doing very little to ground you when her fingers worked so wonderfully against your cunt, reaching as deep as she could, touching you in all the right places and building that breathtaking sensation up and up and up.
“I’ve been so stressed this week,” Agatha murmured, her mouth hot against your shoulder. “If only I had thought of having you help me blow off some steam earlier…”
You whined in response, at the thought of her using you and the sensation of it happening. Your breath was shallow. Agatha’s hand squeezed softly around your neck, holding you in place, your hips moved back and forth with her movements, trying to chase your pleasure at the same time she gave it to you. And she allowed it, fucking you as hard as the limited room of your jeans allowed her to.
Agatha removed her fingers from you and you whimpered at the loss for a moment, almost turning your head back to complain about it before you felt her push into you again, with three fingers this time. You moaned loud. You were so perfectly full, so deliciously stretched around her as she thrusted roughly. Her tongue ran up your neck, her lips sucked on your pulse point. When her teeth grazed your shoulder your body started shuddering.
You were getting close. All you wanted was to cum all over her hand, and you made sure to tell her so. She chuckled, mouth still against your skin.
“And why do you think you deserve it, after the mess you’ve made?”
You opened your mouth to, once again, protest against taking the full blame for your accident, but before you could say anything Agatha spinned you around, pressing your back against the metal lockers. Your faces were inches from each other, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and capture her lips with yours; they looked so deliciously pink and full and shiny from all the kissing and licking of your neck. Your mouth felt empty and needy.
You tried to kiss her, but Agatha held you in place with the hand that never left your neck, and squeezed just a bit harder. “I want to watch your face when you beg me to let you cum,” she said.
If it wasn’t for Agatha’s hands on you and her warm body against yours, you’d have fallen to the floor, her words turning your legs to jelly. You wrapped your hands around her arms, clutching her to keep upright, feeling her muscles tensing under the fabric of her shirt as she fingered you closer and closer to the edge.
You didn’t want to beg her, though, not yet. She didn’t deserve to win, not after the hell she put you through this week. So you bit down on your own lip, holding back your tongue and your moans, only your shallow, rapid breathing as a sign of how good you felt.
“So stubborn,” Agatha clicked her tongue. Her movements never stopped, like you would have expected her to do. Instead, she picked up her pace, pressing both of her hands harder into you, one rubbing over your pussy just the right way and the other one pushing her thumb and pointer finger into the pulse points of your neck until you felt lightheaded and floaty. It was a lot, it was too much. And you were so close and you needed to cum so badly. You tasted blood on your lip.
Agatha picked up her pace. “Beg for it,” she said.
“Fuck you,” was your response.
Something dark overtook her expression. Both of her hands left you and she took a step back. She was finally done trying to break you, you thought, and the idea of her letting you win so easily was disappointing, if you were being honest. You hoped she would try harder, slap you around a bit more and— oh.
Agatha’s hands grabbed on your waist, taking you by surprise when she pulled you down forcefully to lie on your back on the bench in the middle of the room. The wood poked at your spine, and you shifted trying to get comfortable.
“Stop moving,” Agatha barked, slapping your tits — not hard, but as a warning. You hissed through your teeth; your skin was still reddened and sensitive from the burns. Agatha looked at you for a moment, and you could swear it was concern you saw flash across her eyes, you were almost sure she was checking if you were okay before continuing. Before you could say anything – and inevitably ruin the moment – she moved on to pull your pants and underwear off your legs, leaving you fully naked and exposed to anyone who might enter the locker room. You never really thought of yourself as an exhibitionist, but the thought of getting caught had a thrilled feeling going up your spine.
“Are you ready to be good?” Agatha asked, hovering over your body. Her hair, out of her usual ponytail, cascaded around your face, tickling at your skin. It smelled like shampoo and like her and god, you wanted to bury your face in it. You raised your head off the bench, aiming for her lips, but she pulled away before you could reach her. “Beg for it, baby.”
“Never,” you snapped. Agatha chuckled.
“Suit yourself,” she said. “I’m thoroughly enjoying this. Torturing you is a wonderful way to relieve stress.”
You wanted to scoff. You wanted to tell her that she was so full of shit, but all of your reactions got replaced by a deep, guttural moan as her tongue licked a long path up your cunt and around your clit, Agatha did not fully touch it yet, letting you get used to the sensation of her mouth on you before ravishing you the way she wanted.
And that she did, after a moment or two. She ate you out like as if she had been starving, as if, maybe just maybe, she had missed the taste of you just as much as you had missed her mouth and her lips and tongue and light scrape of her teeth on your inner thighs and oh— three of her fingers inside of you again, curling inside of you to touch that one spot that made you see stars behind your eyelids.
You were delirious with pleasure now, so close. Your stubbornness and determination to not let Agatha win were thrown away as you whimpered, “please, Agatha, please please please, I—”
“Good girl,” she murmured against your cunt, sending delicious vibrations straight to your clit. “Cum for me, baby.”
It only took a few more delightful licks and Agatha’s lips wrapping around your clit and sucking it into her mouth as she pumped her fingers in and out of you at a punishing pace, and you were gone. You were pushed over the edge of your orgasm with force, grinding your hips against her face uncontrollably, having to bite down on your own hand to avoid screaming at the top of your lungs.
You took in big gulps of air, trying to even out your breathing, but Agatha wouldn’t allow you to come down from your high. She was still hungry for you, and made no attempt to remove her mouth from your hot, wet cunt. She kept alternating between long licks and wild flickings of her tongue against your clit. You were on the verge of overstimulation and you couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop, stop, stop,” you whimpered, squirming away from her as much as the limited space of the bench allowed you to. Agatha got up, and you breathed deeply, but it only lasted a brief moment before she wrapped her arms around your legs and pulled you closer to her mouth, going right back to devouring you as if you were her last meal on this earth. Your half-hearted protesting died in your throat, being replaced by whines and moans and desperate cries against your own hand, trying as much as you could to muffle the sounds she was forcing out of you.
You writhed, too sensitive, but Agatha held you firmly in place, taking what she wanted from you — which turned out to be another two orgasms, until your whole body went limp against her. She could have pulled out another two, if she really tried, but it would end with you passing out cold and that was not ideal. You felt like a ragdoll, boneless and spent and so, so content.
Agatha climbed up your body and finally, oh, finally, she pressed her lips against yours in a kiss too quick to satisfy you truly, but it tasted like victory all the same.
“Feeling less stressed?” You asked, still a little out of breath. Agatha laughed against your neck, the feeling of it making you giddy.
“Very,” she said, planting a final kiss to your jaw and pulling you up to your feet. You swayed a little on your wobbly legs, but Agatha helped steady you with an arm around your waist.
Agatha very, very gently ran a finger over the skin of your chest, almost a ghost of a touch and opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to decide against it at the last minute. She pulled away from you and reached down into one of the lockers, which you assumed was hers, and picked out a t-shirt. “Here,” she said. “Can’t have you walking around sopping wet.”
You poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek, a smirk growing on your lips at the clear innuendo that she somehow had missed. When it clicked for her, she scoffed and rolled her eyes.
You unfolded the shirt, looking it over before putting it on. “Go, Westview Wildcats.”
Agatha shook her head, a small smile tuffing at the corner of her mouth. “It’s old, from my college days.”
“No judgement, it’s cute,” you said, which earned you another eyeroll. You wanted, desperately, to satiate your curiosity about Agatha Harkness, and ask her about her college days and about her life and what she had for breakfast this morning and why she was always so snappy at everyone and if she knew it was equal parts insufferable and hot. You said nothing though, and Agatha stood awkwardly next to you for a moment.
Another moment passed, and then, apparently growing tired of watching you put your clothes on instead of taking them off, she said, “well, you should go home.”
“But I still have—” you tried to say, but Agatha interrupted you.
“You just got injured on the job. Go home, take care of yourself. And let me know if it gets any worse, alright?”
“Okay…” you mumbled, completely taken aback. Was that her way of showing concern? Did she care?
Agatha only nodded, now, and with one last caress to your arm, barely a touch of her hand on your skin, she left you.