Extreme Sensitivity… as extremely enjoyable. But then… – A Women’s Murder Club Series, part 36

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as extremely enjoyable. But then… (36/?)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Never were. Never will be. No profit. Just love.

*WARNING: Self-indulgent Hitchcock-cameo contained within

(Cindy’s POV)

She’d turned her story in at a relatively inhuman hour when matched to the time she had gotten up, after waiting for the inside scoop from one Lindsay Boxer, homicide inspector, overprotective girlfriend, melty-voiced sex bomb. Then, Cindy waited. And waited. Until finally she fell asleep on the couch. When she was finally awakened by Lindsay’s call, it was 9 a.m. and Lindsay was just getting home after a brutal all-nighter. Which meant that sleeping had to be done, regardless of the fact that Lindsay told Cindy she could come on over if she wanted.

Of course Cindy wanted. She was nothing but a walking mass of want these days. But she refrained and told Lindsay to get some sleep instead.

Because Lindsay was going to need her energy.

They didn’t discuss later plans. They still knew better than to make them. But it was now six o’clock and Lindsay had called a half hour ago and said that she was awake and freshly showered, so Cindy didn’t feel at all bad about showing up at Lindsay’s door with backup.

Impatiently waiting after her quick knock, Cindy watched the door slide open and Lindsay appear in faded jeans and a thin t-shirt, looking so casually sexy that Cindy had to resist the urge to tackle her in the doorway.

“You’re here,” Lindsay smiled, stepping out of the apartment and snagging Cindy so close the air expelled from her in a rush.

As Lindsay’s lips made their way toward her, Cindy had half a mind to point out the spectators, but once Lindsay’s lips actually reached hers, that half of her mind went pleasantly blank. It was only when Lindsay pulled away breathlessly that she finally noticed they weren’t alone. “With Jill and Claire.”

“We’re not staying,” Claire promised Lindsay.

“We’re just being good friends,” Jill added.

“What, are you going to do? Guard the door?” Lindsay snickered.

“No,” Cindy answered for them, sticking her head inside to grab the leash hanging by the door. “Martha,” she called.

Martha came running at her usual non-running pace and Cindy hooked her up and handed the leash off to Jill. That task done, she turned to Lindsay. “Give me your cell phone.”

Though Lindsay was taken aback at the order, she produced her cell from her pocket nonetheless and Cindy took it from her hand before she could protest. Adding her own cell phone to Lindsay’s, she handed both to Claire.

“Any pagers or intercoms I should know about?” she questioned Lindsay.

Seeming to pick up on her objective, Lindsay actually smiled at having her belongings confiscated. “I’m clean,” she husked, and Cindy tried not to embarrass herself in front of Jill and Claire by swooning right into Lindsay’s arms like the love-struck heroine of some southern romance novel. ‘Oh, but Inspector Boxer, I do believe you affect me so that I can scarcely stay upright.’

“Good,” Cindy returned, almost managing to sound normal. “Now, barring a fire or an earthquake…” Her exposition was momentarily interrupted by Lindsay taking her hand and rapping her knuckles gently against the wood doorframe. “We will have no interruptions tonight.”

“Ryan doesn’t know where I live, does she?” Lindsay deadpanned.

“She’s on an assignment.”

“Is this a real assignment?”

“Of course not,” Cindy responded, “but we’ll be done by the time she realizes that.” Looking at Lindsay and swiping her lip with the tip of her tongue, Cindy felt the need for an addendum. “With the first round at least.”

“Aren’t you smart?” Lindsay cooed, moving in on her.

“I like to think I’m slightly above average,” Cindy smirked.

“Oh, you’re way above average,” Lindsay’s arm slid around her and Cindy moaned quietly as she was pulled in close and Lindsay’s lips caught hers again.

“Whoa, still here,” Claire reminded them.

“But wouldn’t mind staying for the show,” Jill chimed in.

Claire turned and headed down the hall. “Heel, Jill,” she commanded.

“Fine,” Jill grumbled and plodded after Claire down the hallway with Martha at her side.

“Thanks,” Cindy called after them as they disappeared around the corner. She felt almost nervous as she turned back to Lindsay. Then, Lindsay pulled her close again and hovered over her, and Cindy’s nerves turned instantly to a vibrant growing need in the pit of her stomach.

“So, slow and easy?” Lindsay murmured. “Or should we hurry before something happens?”

Cindy tried to breathe. Tried. Couldn’t, but tried. “I don’t want to rush things just because something might happen,” she panted.

“Okay,” Lindsay said softly and lowered her head. Lips barely brushing against Cindy’s, she walked backward, pulling Cindy into the apartment.

Cindy felt the door against her back as Lindsay pushed it closed behind her, then fumbled with the lock over her shoulder, all without breaking the kiss. When Lindsay finally did pull away, Cindy was oh-so-aware of the weight of Lindsay’s body holding her up against the door, of Lindsay’s hands moving over her hips. Even the sound of Lindsay’s fingers rubbing damn denim was a turn-on.

“Then again, we could do a little of both,” Cindy breathed, both arms wrapping around Lindsay’s neck to pull her back down. She was aware of Lindsay leaning down, of Lindsay’s hands sliding around to the backs of her thighs, and of being lifted right off of the floor. And then she wasn’t aware of anything other than the feel of Lindsay’s lips under hers and Lindsay’s impossibly warm torso melded to the inside of her thighs.

Just as soon as Cindy’s back hit the mattress, Lindsay slowed to a crawl. Every movement was meticulously carried out, from Lindsay situating herself beside Cindy to her slowly running her fingers through Cindy’s hair. She was so deliberate, so hesitant, it was almost torture. At another time, after any other set of events, Cindy might have thought torture was just Lindsay’s style. But, tonight, Cindy got it. She got that Lindsay wanted to linger in every sensation, give every touch undivided attention, because she felt the same way.

They’d waited much too long now to speed through the important part.

Lindsay’s hand moved to the bottom of Cindy’s shirt, pushing it slowly upward, the backs of her fingers brushing over Cindy’s skin like a ghostly caress.

“This is okay, right?” Lindsay paused in her task and looked up at Cindy.

“We’ve already made it around this base, remember?” Cindy returned breathlessly.

“Yes, it was kind of hard to forget,” Lindsay assured her. “That doesn’t mean you won’t strike me out this time.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Cindy whispered, wondering why exactly Lindsay thought it was fair to try to make her converse when her fingers were moving slowly, but steadily upward, stealing Cindy’s mental resources little by little. “You could have slid into home with me the day you walked into the Register.”

Lindsay’s eye arched a little.

“Okay, maybe not the day you walked in,” Cindy amended. “But it didn’t take long. You had to know I was throwing easy pitches.”

The way that Lindsay looked at her then, it was sweet and affectionate and intense, and altogether indescribable. Her hand landed gently on Cindy’s cheek, her thumb brushing across Cindy’s cheekbone, and Cindy turned her head and placed her lips against the heel of Lindsay’s palm.

Lindsay lowered all of her weight onto Cindy and it was such welcome captivity. Teasingly, Lindsay dipped her head and pulled back, and Cindy found herself chasing after her. Just like she had from the beginning. Lindsay smiled and lowered her head again, but there was no tease. Her lips met Cindy’s so softly, Cindy was sure her heart actually stopped for an instant.

Then an alarm went off. A real alarm. A real, loud alarm.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Lindsay pulled back from the tender moment with a vengeance, as if she’d just been waiting for the disturbance.

“Is that the fire alarm?” Cindy asked.

“The building is not on fire,” Lindsay declared. “It’s not. Let’s just ignore it.”

“Does the fire alarm go off often?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know it’s not actually something?” Cindy questioned.

“I don’t,” Lindsay admitted. “I think I would just prefer to perish in a fire than stop when I am this close to…” she trailed off.

Cindy felt for Lindsay. And felt Lindsay, like an electromagnetic force shooting straight through every part of her body, which did make it difficult to be reasonable. But they needed to be reasonable, especially when one of Lindsay’s neighbors pounded on the door to the apartment and yelled “Fire!” from the hallway.

“The building is not on fire,” Lindsay grumbled even as she got up.

*****

“The building is actually fucking on fire,” Lindsay stated for at least the tenth time since she and Cindy’d made it safely outside and lined up on the sidewalk with the other people from Lindsay’s building. “It’s actually fucking on fire. What are the odds?”

‘Depends who’s writing the story,’ Cindy fleetingly reflected.

“It was an electrical fire in the basement. It’s out now, but they probably won’t be able to get your electricity back on until tomorrow. Other than that, it looks like we don’t have to impose too much on anyone’s evening.”

‘Wrong choice of words, buddy,’ Cindy thought, grabbing onto Lindsay’s arm in case she decided to demonstrate to the firefighter that he had been more of an imposition than he realized.

Lindsay’s neighbors started to wander back inside, and Cindy turned to Lindsay, who wore a look of completely unsurprised frustration.

“Do you want to just pick up where we left off?” Cindy offered, knowing it wasn’t really an option.

“No,” Lindsay sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to overlook the fact that I’ve been in an insanely foul mood for the past two hours. I really just want the beginning of the night back.”

“Me too,” Cindy whispered. “But you’re not going to stay here, right? You’re at least going to come and stay at my place?”

“Yes,” Lindsay nodded. “I’ll stay and we’ll sleep. We’ve done it before.”

“Not willingly,” Cindy reminded her with a smirk.

Lindsay lifted her hand and ran the backs of her fingers along Cindy’s cheek, looking at her in such a way that Cindy became instantly sober.

“Let me get a few things and I’ll be right out,” Lindsay said and walked off.

Cindy stood on the sidewalk, the sound of the firemen putting their equipment back on the truck echoing in the night, and a very strange feeling welling up inside of her. She couldn’t have anticipated the fire, and she certainly wouldn’t have wished it upon them, but something about that moment, the one she’d just had with Lindsay, felt so magical that Cindy was almost glad that it had happened.