Title: The cOrus
Flavour: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Characters: Abbie Mills & Ichabod Crane
Word Count: 4000
Beta: My lovely Suzanne
A/N: AU set in 2018Summary: Special Agent Abbie Mills attends a law enforcement conference in London. As a reward at the end of the five day meeting she books time with Ichabod Crane to guide her through a club night. Ichabod and Abbie click and their date will turn to more than dancing.
Abbie Mills got out of the black cab, a stuffed leather briefcase hung over her shoulder. With a smile and a nod for the doorman in the dark blue uniform she entered The cOrus Hotel at 1 Lancaster Gate. The beautiful neo-classical building with the white front faced Hyde Park. The view from her room into the awakening park was overwhelming. All trees, bushes and flowers were sprouting, and soft green enveloped the awakening nature.
At least the boring conference dinner was over. New Scotland Yard had invited them to the ICPLJ 2018: 20th International Conference on Law, Policing and Justice. The participants had just finished five days full of interesting talks, crowded seminars, high technology lab visits and handy workshops.
FBI Special Agent in Charge of the Westchester County Office Grace Abigail Mills had spoken for thirty minutes about ten Unsolved Mysteries of the Hudson Valley at Tuesday, but the Friday highlight dinner at the Smith Square Conference Center had stressed her more than expected. Abbie liked to network and she had shared her business card with colleagues all over the world but this dinner was just too big and all the annoying people she had avoided during the week had found her tonight and she was forced to talk to them. These people had also been the reason she hadn't booked a room in one of the conference hotels but had decided on lodging three miles away.
Chris Day, an Australian Outback Ranger Abbie had known for years, and Leila al-Suwaidi, homicide cop in Baghdad had rescued her this evening. They had seen Abbie through the crowd and guided her to the big buffet. Abbie smiled as she thought about her new friends. She had much fun with them during the cyber crime workshop and their presentations about animal smuggling and terror prevention had inspired her. The three women had a good laugh during their Wednesday lunch because they had found out Leila knew Jenny Mills from one of her artifacts travels through the Middle East. It had taken them three full days to finally realizing the Mills connection. Abbie would badly miss these two committed officers. They were already on their way back home. But all three had agreed to meet again next year when the ICPLJ took place in Buenos Aires.
With a hushed swipe the door moved over the thick carpet and Abbie entered her cozy hotel room. She liked the combination of cream beige walls and dark brown furniture. The bed was big and comfortable. It stood in a corner of the room under a window. She also had an asymmetric dressing table with two big mirrors. She threw her shoulder bag into one of two armchairs and crashed into the other. What a day.
Abbie kicked off her black ankle boots and got rid of the dark grey blazer. She switched on the television and changed to BBC News to see what had happened in the world during the last conference day. Nothing world-shaking to Abbie's relief. Putin still couldn't believe that Russia had dropped him.
With a glass of water in her hand, Abbie stepped to the subtley hidden closet. She opened the door and her eyes fell on wine red chiffon peeking between all the muted colors of her business shirts and suits. With butterflies in her tummy she touched the soft material. Abbie would finish the London conference with her own highlight. She checked her smart phone, re-reading her answers to the short questionnaire. Yes, that was what she wanted and deserved after the strains of the last week. Abbie noted that she had forty-five minutes before her appointment. Good, it was enough time to shower and change. She was nervous. She never had done this before.
Ichabod Crane left the subway at Lancaster Gate. He only had to cross Sussex Gardens to enter the hotel, loud twittering from the nearby park followed his steps. He had never met a client here at The cOrus. Although her room was on the second floor he took the elevator. Ichabod wanted to make sure his outfit was okay under the bright lights inside the elevator. Once again he checked his phone for the room number and appointment time. Accuracy was one of his strengths. You never should let a woman wait. Being too early was even worse.
His client, Abbie, Ichabod formed her name silently with his lips, had booked a Club Tour. Splendid, he hadn't had one in months. His previous clients always wanted the opera, a theater or gallery opening. One woman even had asked him to guide her on a museum tour last fall. That had been a very funny trip and he had learned a lot from the cultural anthropologist. But Ichabod loved to dance and he was looking forward to the night with "Abbie," he whispered again.
He was doing very well lately. Most of the women who booked time with him were educated career women. They had no time to cultivate relationships or they were visiting London for the first time and didn't know anyone in the city who could show them the sites. His service was an uncomplicated opportunity to spend a few hours in pleasant and, what was even more important for his clients, safe company. His multilingual skills were a big asset as well. The women experienced no stress with his organization or with the few questions on his webpage about their preferences. This way he could arrange a Pub Tour or acquire tickets for the hottest play of the season.
Men wanted to buy a woman and own her. They needed to see the money change. Women were much more subtle. They booked yoga sessions or a beauty treatment at a spa ahead of time. They booked him for company and a good time. The payment was long done and they could just enjoy their time together with him.
Ichabod liked everything about these dates, the research, the planning and its fruition. He was good at this and sometimes steamy sex in a noble hotel bed was the cherry on the cake. It was never part of his package, just a slight whispering lingering in the background.
He wasn't an Escort!
Maybe he was?
Ichabod was a single dad. His wife Katrina had cheated on him with his best friend Abraham during their seven-year itch. Four years ago the two had had a deadly car accident on the way to a secret weekend tête-à-tête. KARMA! You should never get head while driving. Now Ichabod was raising his six year old son Jeremy with the help of his younger brother Joseph who moved in after his service for Her Majesty's Armed Forces.
He wanted the best for Jeremy. Good schools and a big apartment in the city were expensive and his side business was a good addition to his income. On one date night he earned as much as two weeks tutoring at a few London Colleges, his daytime job. It was hard times for graduates. It was hard times for everyone. But he always enjoyed seducing women. Ichabod had offered his company to women during his own college years. But he had stopped the arranged dates when he started military service and then had met Katrina.
Ichabod was a little excited as he softly knocked at the door to room 203. But that was part of the game and he liked it this way.
"Hello Abbie," he said, and waited until she asked him in. She was tiny, he estimated 30 cm shorter than him, but with a big presence. He didn't know what she did for a living but could sense power. He only knew she was from the US. Abbie was a little younger than his usual clients and stunning. Ichabod was breathless. His eyes traveled slowly over the eye-catching red empire dress. The spaghetti straps offered a view of a lot of flawless skin.
"Would you like tea?" Abbie asked, and turned around. With swaying hips, which allowed the many layers to dance around her curves, she filled the whole room.
"No sugar but a drop of milk, please," Ichabod agreed, and followed Abbie to the armchairs with the tiny table in between.
"Where will you take me tonight?" Abbie inquired, as she passed her guest the white china containing the hot liquid. "I want to dance all night long."
Ichabod raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Well, your wish is my command."
Abbie liked the guy from the first moment. He had a charming smile and light laugh lines around the eyes which promised a fun filled night. He had wonderful long and elegant fingers which promised even more. Abbie choked on her tea with the thought of what might happen later the night. Her gaze wandered unintentionally again and again over to the bed while they got to know each other and Ichabod gave a short summary of the tour and suggested a few clubs for Abbie to choose from.
"Let's go," Abbie got up after they finished the tea. "Let's start with this salsa club at Charing Cross Road. I'm in the mood for Latin music and a caipirinha." Abbie stepped over to the closet to slip into high heel sandals, gaining a few inches. She also reached for a sparkling clutch and a silver shawl. Before she could wrap the flowing chiffon around her shoulders, Ichabod stood behind her and helped with the draping. He leaned down to whisper: "Yes, let's start the night. I can't wait to show you another side of London." His hot breath and his gentle fingers made the hair on her neck stand on end.
This man really tickled all her nerve endings. He was easy on the eyes, tall, slender, with deep blue eyes and had tousled hair which mirrored her own hairstyle. It didn't get better as he put on the dark blue suit jacket. His pecs, shoulders and upper arms tightened very nicely under the white cotton of his long sleeve shirt. The suspenders did the rest for Abbie.
Abbie was a firecracker on the dance floor. First she danced alone just for herself but with each song she moved closer to her partner. Ichabod wasn't a Salsa expert but his Latin dance skills found favor with his woman of the night.
He also liked that she held back on the alcohol. She had one drink at the first club and they shared a beer at the second location but now she drank only water and alcohol free cocktails.
The last rumba cracked them. You couldn't call it dancing anymore. It was sex on the dance floor. Hands traveled over heated bodies, a knee moved between burning thighs. Cucarachas, Fan & Hockey Stick and Alemana flew into each other. As Nancy Jordan's Do That To Me One MoreTime ended they forgot their half emptied drinks, retrieved Abbie's scarf and beckoned the next cab. It was hard to keep their hands to themselves on the rear bench seats but they could brace themselves. At least Lancaster Gate wasn't far away.
They rushed through the quiet lobby with the sleepy concierge and flew up the stairs in the second floor. Ichabod fiddled with the key card to Abbie's room and they stumbled inside. To keep the mood they only switched on the indirect lighting around the makeup mirror. Abbie turned on soft music. Ichabod took Abbie in his arms. "Finally alone." They swayed back and forth, continuing the dancing.
"What next?" Abbie asked breathlesly. "Do you have another questionnaire for this part of the night?"
He stroked one of the straps over Abbie's shoulder and kissed the delicate skin at the curve of her neck. "Unfortunately not, but we can do it orally if you want," Ichabod replied with husky voice.
"Fuck!" Abbie gasped.
"If you insist!"
Pause! Time stood still for a moment and the air between them sizzled.
Ichabod looked deep into Abbie's eyes and she became lost in the blue eternity. The cheeky tip of her tongue licked the left corner of her mouth. He was very turned on by her juicy lips and this sensual quirk. Abbie had done it several times during the night and he didn't know if she did it without realizing or to heat him up. Ichabod got even closer but gave Abbie every opportunity to slow down or stop him. To his delight she leaned her tiny body further into his, her erect nipples straining through her dress and pressing against his torso. "You smell good," she whispered. Gathering her courage she shoved the jacket over his strong shoulders and they danced slowly through the room.
"You taste good." Ichabod reached for the zipper and moved it carefully down Abbie's back, his fingertips brushing slightly along her spine, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The soft material slipped off Abbie's body and gathered around her feet. He reached for Abbie's hands so she could step out of her dress. It drove him crazy that she didn't cover her naked breasts with the chocolate tips, her whole stature spoke confidence. The sexy red boy shorts with the black appliques punctuating Abbie's poise. He was mesmerized by this woman. He wanted her and he wanted her to feel good, very good.
As Abbie felt the bed against the hollow of her knees her heart stumbled in her chest and adrenalin kicked in. She was on a high. "All right, questionnaire time," she began to collect her thoughts, and started to play with Ichabod's suspenders. "These are a big turn on for me," she confessed.
"I like that you like them."
"Touch me everywhere. I want to feel your weight on me."
"I can't wait to stroke your warm skin."
"Your stubble on my nipples will light my fire pretty quickly." Abbie looked down at her chest and circled the tips of her middle fingers around her sensitive buttons. She noted that Ichabod stopped to breath and how his gaze glued on her bare skin. He barely nodded showing his understanding. Abbie reached for his face, feeling his beard in full anticipation. "Finger me until I see stars. Hard!" she listed. "Cunnilingus is nice, but."
"Fingering," Ichabod nodded. He understood.
"Take me from behind."
"All kinds from behind, surprise me." Abbie fiddled with Ichabod's shirt. She wanted it off, but the suspenders still on. "It will hit all the right spots."
"Good to know," he responded.
"Do you have condoms?"
Abbie sighed in relief. She didn't know if she would have the willpower to leave the room again and look for the nearest drug store or asked the sleazy concierge to get some. "Thank god. I guess I just have two buried deep in my shoulder bag between abandoned gummy bears and used tissues. I don't remember. The expiry date is probably long gone." Slowly she moved down the tall man's body, kissing his flat belly. His pants were next. She wetted again her lips.
"What are you doing?"
"I…" Abbie responded, kneeling in front of Ichabod. She could see his arousal right in front of her.
"This is your special night," Ichabod said, and helped her up again. In a quick move he lifted the petit woman from the ground and placed her carefully in the middle of the bed. "You don't have to."
Abbie's eyes sparkled. "What?"
"Suck my dick."
"Dirty talk is a turn on, too." A pleasant shiver hit her whole body. "My panties were already drenched when we entered the third club," she sighed.
"You have no idea what a turn on your frankness is for me," Ichabod responded, and lay his warm body over Abbie.
Abbie's body and mind were fused by the sensation. She was on hands and knees, both pillows stuck under her belly for more support. The man behind her spoiled her with slow and deep strokes and an intimacy she hadn't felt for a long time. Ichabod's lips brushed against her hairline, whispering naughty scenarios about their next round. One of his big hands held her throat, always on the verge of cutting off her airway but never doing it. "You know, I will tie you with your scarf to one of the armchairs and fuck you senseless."
The whole position screamed gentle dominance and Abbie loved it. She could easily see every detail in the big mirror on the opposite wall. She purred as Ichabod's free hand glided over her sweaty body to reach for her breasts before he grabbed her bum.
"Fuck," she gasped, as her date heightened his grip. He felt how her walls tightened around his bursting cock. "Damn, I love how you feel on my dick." A last well-placed slap on her perfect ass ignited Abbie's orgasmic explosion which rushed through her whole body. Ichabod followed her to the stars only a few moments later.
Ichabod was first back on earth. With great care he pulled out and removed the rubber and slip guard from his penis. He reached for a towel and gently dabbed Abbie's creamy pussy but she jerked by the slight touch. Her whole sensitive vagina was still vibrating.
Abbie had been sunk down in the bed during the orgasm, her face still pressed in the silk sheets, not able to move. Ichabod loved the view of full-blown satisfaction. He would memorize her bliss for a bit longer. Sometimes eidetic memory was a wonderful asset. With a smile on his face he nibbled his way up over butt and spine again to Abbie's ear. "Thank you."
She sighed and turned her head, looking deep into his honest eyes. Abbie took a deep breath and smiled. She knew it was a featherbrained smile but right now she couldn't care less. One night stands had been always tricky for her. Could she trust her partner enough to let go and just enjoy the intercourse? But with him it was GOOD. Ichabod snuggled beside her and pulled her half over his long frame, stroking her wild hair. Her head rested in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He managed to cover them with the orange bedspread somehow.
They rested this way several minutes before Abbie found words again. "You really know how to treat a woman."
"Only how to treat you." Ichabod murmured, and added. "I am only as good as my partner."
Abbie played lazily with Ichabod's soft chest hair. "I am not into submissive."
"And I not into dominance," Ichabod followed quickly.
"But this was phenomenal."
"Indeed," he agreed, and ran his large palm over Abbie's round butt cheeks. She twitched in response. "Sorry, I hope you can sit tomorrow."
"Will there be a bruise?" Abbie asked worried, thinking of the long flight on uncomfortable plane seats back to the US tomorrow evening. But she rolled her eyes about herself. The last hour and the heavenly satisfaction was more than worth a little inconvenience.
Ichabod slipped down her flushed body to check the result of their dissolute passion. "I hope not. It's just slightly reddened." He kneeled and took one of Abbie's feet for a little massage. "It's late, should I leave?" he asked quietly. "You mentioned you have a last business breakfast with a Met Detective Chief Inspector at 9:30."
Abbie rested her chin in her palm. Ichabod's unique smile lit the whole room. "Can you stay a little longer and hold me?" she questioned, nudging him with her foot.
"Yes, I can." Ichabod slipped back under the covers, and snuggled close to Abbie, twisting his long limbs with hers. They looked deep into each other's eyes and time stood still. Ichabod sank his head down and Abbie met him half way. Their lips touched for the first time tonight. Tasting, sucking and swirling followed for several minutes and both were lost in their kisses. Under heavy breathing they parted again.
"Sorry, this wasn't part of the deal, was it?" Abbie apologized. Ichabod hadn't kissed her on the mouth during their whole foreplay and the steamy sex. She had accepted that this was the line he wouldn't cross so she had enjoyed his skillful lips and wet tongue at other parts of her body.
"No apology needed," Ichabod responded, and kissed her with even more fire. He rolled Abbie on her back and slipped between her burning tights. With one quick move he rolled another condom over and made sensual and slow love with this special woman.
Abbie opened her eyes because a sunbeam tickled her nose. She stretched pleasantly and sprawled in the big bed. Curious she reached for her phone on the night stand. Five more minutes and her appointed alarm would turn on. It was 8:25. As she put her phone back on the little table Abbie's finger brushed against a business card. She blinked away the sleepy dust before she read the line on the backside.
The note was written in the most elegant handwriting she had ever seen. Abbie sighed. She had more than enjoyed her time with Ichabod. She turned the card to read his full name, Ichabod Crane.
He had left her in the early morning hours after they had showered together. Abbie blushed as she thought about what they had done under the hot water of the rainforest shower. She turned one more time to the other side of the bed, hugging her pillow. He hadn't stopped her when she had sunk down her knees the second time, showing Mr. Crane a few other oral techniques. He had lost his mind and again moaned her name as they had said goodnight at the hotel room door thirty minutes later, Abbie only in a tiny towel wrapped lasciviously around her curvaceous body.
Abbie's alarm beeped. She had to get up for her last appointment with Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Lynley. He had asked her about the possibility of a British/US cooperation case study and wanted to present his first informal ideas. They would meet over a typical English breakfast with his always grumpy Sergeant Havers.
Her eyes fell again on the simple but elegant business card. Abbie reached for her phone and mechanically dialed the first numbers. Maybe she should change her return flight and stay one more night in London.
Abbie was tired. The jetlag was hitting her hard. She was about to switch off the bedside lamp when she heard footsteps climbing up the stairs to her bedroom on the first floor. She smiled as he opened the door, a small travel bag over his shoulder. He looked tired but happy. His clothes were totally crumpled.
"Welcome back, Crane."
He dropped the bag and his heavy coat where he stood and went over to his and Abbie's marital bed. On his way he shed of all of his clothes. He slipped under the soft duvets and took his wife in his arms.
"Happy first anniversary, Lieutenant!" Ichabod murmured into Abbie's hair, and kissed her with passion. "That was quite an experiment."
"Wasn't it?" she sighed.
After a while Abbie continued. "I don't want the fifth tribulation to start."
"Me neither," Ichabod agreed.
"I want to try a lot more steamy roll plays."
Ichabod smirked. Their sex was always mind blowing but those two nights in London defined a new milestone of their intimate relationship.
"I fantasized at least three on the way home."
"Three? I came up with two," Ichabod replied, and switched off the light. "I heard Buenos Aires can be stimulating in spring." He rolled on his side, cocooning Abbie with his tall frame.
"And I want a baby," Abbie whispered in the dark.