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Somewhere along the way, when he wasn’t paying quite enough attention, the lines between good and evil had gone murky.  Sin eaters they called themselves.  Well, John was full up on sin.  He’d consumed every ugly deed imaginable all in the name of patriotism, heroism.  But somehow he just didn’t think real heroes mutilated and burnt and water boarded and dismembered other human beings till they were screaming, shredded lumps of flesh.  He had signed up for it but God he did not want it.  And then, finally, when he’d been running with a bullet in his gut, courtesy of the country he had sold his soul for, those lines had gone clear again and he was absolutely on the ugly side of those lines.

“Everything ok John?”

Carter’s voice shook him out of the dark spiral of his thoughts, warm, with that burnt-sugar lilt to it.  He turned to her and let a small, tight smile curl his lips.  She looked tired and beautiful, the streetlamps just reflecting in the wet shine of her eyes.  Hour 5 of their stakeout and John felt awful that she was there with him but this number needed both of them and Fusco was spending the night with his son out of town.  Also he preferred the sound and sight and smell of her to Fusco, even though he and the burly detective were on less hostile terms of late.  While Root and Shaw had kidnapped Bear two days ago and very firmly disappeared to somewhere hot and beachy.

“I’m fine Joss,” he rumbled, his voice rougher.  “How you holding up?”

She straightened up in the warm leather seat, sweeping her hair into a messy bun and running her hands over her face.  “Tired.  Since I met you and Finch life has been interesting,” she grinned, tossing an amused look his way.

He smiled back at her, almost helpless against the impulse.  The stubborn, stupidly brave, entirely principled detective had lodged somewhere deep in his marrow and he had accepted the fact that she’d be staying there permanently.  She was the pure, sweet, goodness he’d always hungered for. So much like Jessica, but not.  Jessica had been innocent and John had left her because he didn’t believe she could see him – truly him – the man who was darkness and light –  and still want him.  But Joss.  God, Joss faced the dark in him and she grabbed it and consumed it and shoved him toward the light.  He wanted to do better because of her.  He wanted to be better because of her. And something in him unraveled under her gaze because she saw him – absolutely saw him, knew every dank, dark crevice of his terribly complicated insides and still wanted him.  Still loved him.

“C’mere,” he rasped at her, sliding the seat in the range rover backwards and reaching a hand out to her.

She blinked at him, huffing a laugh.  “Here?” She asked, incredulous.

“You shy Joss?”

“We’re working!”  But she was rising out of her seat anyway, slinging one long leg over his thighs and settling over him, smelling of warm skin, faded perfume and coconut oil.

He rubbed his stubbled chin lightly over her soft neck and placed a suckling kiss at the join of her neck and shoulder.  She moaned softly.

“You think I can’t do both?” he whispered, cupping her breasts through the black tank she was wearing.  She stifled a high, breathy noise and ran her hands through the soft, cropped bristle of the hair at his nape.

“I sure as shit can’t,” she panted, grinding agains the hard ridge of his cock in the beautifully tailored trousers. He stifled a groan of his own.

“Don’t worry babe.  I’ve got you.  I’ve got us.”

“Finch –“ she gasped, a final protest, as his clever fingers unzipped her slack and slid into the wet, hot, fragrant clutch of her.

The other man’s vaguely scandalized and amused voice came through the headset. “I’ll keep an eye on our number for a bit Mr. Reese.  Enjoy.” 

John smiled against the cushion of her cleavage before pulling her top and bra down and sucking one hard, fat brown nipple into his mouth.  The sound she made then had his cock weeping.

“He’s giving us a moment.  It’s just us for now.”

She bent her head to his, gazes locked, and breathed, “Oh thank God,” before devouring his lips in a kiss that set his blood to fire.

She arched slightly up and he dragged her pants and the little scrap of satiny panty down her thick thighs while she pulled the velvet length of him out and settled hungrily, greedily on the steely length.  He stared helplessly up at her as she sank down and down and down, so tight, so unbearably tight.  Doing this, with her, always felt like a blaze cleansing the pain from his soul, scorching the pain and the filth out and leaving just white hot bliss and satiation. 

As she settled back in his lap, her insides a dripping, mercilessly clenching vice around him, she gently cradled his head, stroking the sharpness and hardness from his face and body and whispered slowly, with crushing gentleness, against his trembling, parted lips, “I love you John.”