As first-time apocrypha author Lin Courtright points out in her title, this first of two stories were inspired by some nocturnal creativity. "The original set of stories were written for a friend about two years ago," she says, and at the urging of that same friend, she decided to send them in. Here's the first (look for a Jack McCoy/Claire Kincaid pairing in our Fall issue) ... and Mike Logan fans -- make sure you've got the fan turned on in the room when you start reading....
Dreams: Shades of Plaid
By Lin Courtright
T he August heat was at its highest and it didn't help matters that the air conditioning was out in various parts of the 27th Precinct, including the Homicide Division. The only saving grace came from the faint breeze coming through an open window and the air produced from the ancient ceiling fans overhead that could only be placed on the lowest setting, any higher the fans would rattle as if they were going to shake apart from their mountings. Even the criminals were taking a break from the heat, giving the detectives time to take a break from their busy schedules.
Special Agent Casey Spenser sat quietly at her back corner desk, gently tapping her ink pen against her head as she stared blankly at the status report in front of her that she was working on. The heat was sending her into a lull, making it hard for her to concentrate on her work. Caffeine, that's what I need. She picked up her coffee cup to take a drink only to find that it was empty.
She sighed, standing up, and walked over to the coffee machine. As she reached the machine, she realized the pot was empty. She shook her head as she sat her cup down and proceeded to make a fresh pot. Coffee! I can't believe that I'm making coffee in weather like this, she thought to herself. Oh, well. I'm sure between me and Briscoe, we'll have it gone in an hour.
As she waited for the coffee to brew, she leaned back against the cabinets behind her, and folded her arms akimbo. She looked across the room at her partner, Anthony Martinez. He sat at his desk, leaned back in his chair, talking on the phone. He had spent a good part of the day tracking down leads on their investigation.
Turning to her left, she took in the full room, the colors all blending together into a large, plaid collage. What's with plaid and the Irish? she thought, remembering something her mother used to say. Micks are suppose to wear plaid, her father would say. She smiled to herself, thinking of the plaid uniforms she had to wear at Sacred Hearts Academy when she was younger. Remembering, Scott O'Connell in his uniform...
She shook her head, trying to get her mind off of plaid. I can't believe I'm having erotic thoughts about plaid.
She turned her attention to Detective Lennie Briscoe, who also sat at his desk on the phone, and by seeing the frustrated look on his face it was work related. It has to be work. It's too early in the year for Knicks tickets, Casey thought.
Sitting across from him was his partner Detective Mike Logan.
After transferring to the 27th's Homicide as the liaison officer for the FBI, she had made it a point to avoid him as much as possible. The two openly showed their dislike for each other from the first day that they met. She stood there and took a long look at him. He sat in front of an antique typewriter, tapping on the machine, using his index fingers. Occasionally, he'd stop, turning from the report he was typing to look at his notes that sat on his desk. His hazel eyes focused intently on what he was doing.
He had a head of thick, black hair with one unruly lock of hair that hung down in his face. His suit jacket was off, draped over the back of his chair. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The top button of his shirt was undone and his blue and white plaid tie was loosened.
Now, there's a man with a bigger fetish for plaid than me.
She turned away when she saw him look up at her, their eyes meeting briefly. She dropped her head as she felt a warmth fall over her. Think nasty, horrible thoughts, Casey.
The coffee completed brewing. Casey poured herself a cup of coffee, picked it up and walked back over to her desk. She stood by her desk, picking up the report that she had previously been reading, and began to read over it again, while sipping her coffee.
"Hey, Spenser. Can you do me a favor?"
She almost choked on her coffee. She sat her cup and the report down as she coughed, trying to catch her breath. She turned around to see Mike standing beside her. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the air being sucked out of her.
"Uh... yeah," she stammered out.
"You okay?" he asked, a concerned look on his face.
She nodded. "Yeah. You just startled me, that's all."
He scratched the side of his head as he looked down at her. "Since Anita's on the phone, you got time to talk to a suspect with me? I got a woman involved in a domestic dispute."
She drew in a deep breath, trying to refill her lungs. "Sure, Detective."
She took her suit jacket off the back of her chair, putting it on, as she followed him over to his desk for him to retrieve his own suit jacket. She watched him from behind, leaning over the typewriter to get his jacket.
Oh, god. Is he built, she thought, watching him now putting on his jacket as they walked down the hall leading to the interrogation room. She shook her head, trying to get the thoughts out of her mind. Think cold... ice cold... Arctic cold. As she felt her heart rate returning to normal, she breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been no good to go in for an interview with her mind reveling on the perverse thoughts running rampant in her mind.
He opened the door leading into the small observation room which lead into the actual interrogation room. Casey stepped into the two-tone green painted room, looking around. The only furniture into the room was four, uncomfortable metal chairs and a scratched up table. The walls which needed a new paint job. She walked over to the window which was covered with a metal wire screen and turned around. Mike was shutting the door, locking it when she turned around.
He leaned his back against the door, arms akimbo across his chest. Casey pushed her jacket back, resting one hand on the handle of her Glock and the other on her hip. She looked across the room at him, disgusted.
"Is this some kind of joke, Detective Logan? Where's your suspect for the domestic dispute?"
"There's no joke, Agent Spenser." He raised his arm slightly, pointing his thumb at the two-way mirrored glass beside him. "And, you're looking at her."
Casey looked at her reflection in the glass, then turned back to him. She narrowed her eyes, looking at him coolly. "What do you want, Logan? I don't have time to play games."
He straightened up and walked over to her, with his arms still folded. "I just thought it was high time we talked about the beef you got with me," he said, stopping barely a foot away from her.
"Is that so?" She took in a deep breath, then nodded. "All right, fine. I'm not going to deny that I think you're a chauvinist and self obsessed. I don't like some of your methods -- "
He stopped her by holding up his hand, shaking his head. "That's not what I mean, Casey."
Her eyebrows lifted at the sound of him using her first name. "And just what do you mean, Mike?"
He gave her a lopsided grin as he leaned slightly forward, bringing his eyes leveled with hers. "You know exactly what I mean."
She tried her best to keep her composure. "You're... you're talking about yourself personally."
Suddenly she felt herself at a lost for words. Horrible thoughts. Freezing, cold, blizzard... She pulled herself together, knowing she had to get out of the room fast, before she lost her self-control. "I don't have time for this."
Her arm brushed against his as she attempted to flee, but she was stopped when he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back to him.
"Face it, Casey. You want me just as bad as I want you."
Unconsciously, her mouth dropped. A mixture of disgust and dread filled her mind. "I... I don't know what the hell you're talking about."
His grin turned into a smile. "Oh... you know exactly what I'm talking about. I've saw how you've looked at me from across the room. You've thought about it... I know I have. I can see it in your eyes."
Anger began to grow. "You're deluded, Logan. Now, let go."
"Not until I'm finished speaking my mind," he said sternly. He took a step forward, still holding her wrist in his hand.
Casey backed up, only to find herself pressed against the wall behind her. Fear was now beginning to replace the anger. She found herself unable to remove her eyes from his. She was hypnotized by his gaze. She felt his hand move gently up the sleeve of her jacket to her neck. He started to twirl the small ringlet of her hair in his fingers.
His voice lowered. "I wanted you from the moment I first saw you. You walked into the DA's office looking all official-like in your FBI suit. Your hair up just like it is now." He moved in closer to where his head was besides hers. "You wore that blouse that if you looked hard enough, you could see that lace bra that was underneath," he whispered.
Her eyes widened as her face flushed redder than her hair. "Mike, I -- "
She was prevented from finishing her protest when he removed his hand from her hair, placing a finger over her lips. He raised his head, focusing his eyes on hers again. Casey now found herself staring into eyes the color of cognac. She felt drunk with desire for the man that held her captive in the drab interrogation room.
"I've often thought of how it would feel to have your bare skin against mine." He slowly moved his finger from her lips, gliding it across her cheek, down along her jaw-line to her neck, down her chest, stopping at the top button of her gray blouse. "To be able to feel you."
He raised his arm along with hers, still holding her wrist. He released his hold on her wrist and entwined her fingers with his. Lowering his head, he kissed the palm of her hand, looking up at her out the corner of his eye. She was frozen even though her body temperature had increased higher than that of the summer heat outside.
"You know what I want to do right now?" he said, seductively.
She shook her head. "N... no."
He moved his hands up to the back of her head and began to remove the pins that held her hair up in the French twist that she wore. He ran his fingers through her hair, allowing her long, curly hair fall down around her face and back.
"I want to run my fingers through your hair."
Her body began to tremble as his hands were placed on each side of her face. He pressed his body against hers as his lips claimed hers. She gave into his advances, allowing him to thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. Casey shuddered against him, submitting, letting Mike reach deep within her mouth, taking his fill.
When he tore away quickly, she cried out softly at the sudden loss of his heated mouth. She found herself staring deeply into amber eyes as she breathed heavily, trying to refill her oxygen-deprived lungs.
"To have you scream my name." He paused, giving her an almost smile. That smile that she had dreamed of at night. "Tell me, Casey..."
God yes. It wasn't until she saw the gleam in his eye that she realized she spoke aloud.
His hands moved down her shoulders to her chest as he began to tug at her blouse, pulling it from her skirt. He quickly unbuttoned her blouse, pushing it and her jacket off, down her arms, depositing it on the floor.
She grabbed his tie, freeing it from its knot then made quick work of the buttons of his shirt. She dropped his shirt and jacket onto the floor with hers. Reaching around his waist, she yanked the cotton T-shirt from his pants, pushing her hands up under it to score her nails down his broad back. A groan from deep in his chest rewarded her, as did the arching of his body against hers.
They locked together again in another heated kiss as Casey pulled at the belt, unclasping it and unzipping his pants while Mike was reaching around her back to unzip her skirt. Never breaking their kiss, they found themselves only in his boxers and socks and she in her bra, panties, and thigh high stockings.
Mike broke off the kiss as his hands glided up her body to her breasts. He gave her a boyish grin as he unfastened the front clasp of her bra. "Plaid underwear?"
She returned his smile as she ran her fingers between the elastic of his boxers and his waist. "Plaid ties? Plaid boxers?"
"Great minds think alike," he said, lowering himself down.
Casey's head went back against the wall, feeling him cup her breasts with warm, rough hands. He lowered his head and began to tease her left nipple with his tongue as his hand massaged her right breast. She gasped, feeling him suck on her breast, soon he moved over to its neglected twin taking it, performing the same routine.
She felt his hand lower down her abdomen to her panties. She watched him slide them down her legs, raising back up as she stepped out of them. He pushed his boxers off and kicked them over to the pile of clothes that had congealed on the floor.
He placed his left hand at the nape of her neck and his right on her waist as he pinned her against the wall. She once again saw his eyes change, this time to a hazy green.
"You're incredible," he whispered before thrusting his tongue into her mouth, exploring.
Casey began to lose control when his hand moved down, parting her legs slightly. His finger began to tease the sensitive area there. Then, without warning, he pushed his finger inside of her.
Mike pulled her in for a deeper kiss, muffling the cry that he was producing from his act. His tongue began to match the activity of his finger. Casey's body began to shake from the orgasm that he had coaxed. He broke off their kiss, looking at her through the tangle of bangs that hung in his face.
"This is what I wanted all the time."
She bit her lower lip, refusing to open her mouth, fearing she would scream as he continued his ministrations. Her legs began to lose their will to hold her body up as Mike worked her into a second orgasm.
He smiled openly as he removed his hand from her. Lowering himself slightly, he placed his hands on her thighs, lifting her up into the air. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he moved one hand to the small of her back, while the other ran through her hair, urging her in for yet another kiss.
Mike maneuvered her body, sliding her down. He pushed her back against the wall as he plunged himself deep inside of her. Both releasing a moan into each others mouth at the contact of the others body. He lowered their bodies to the hard floor, never losing their contact.
Taking a few shallow strokes, he waited until her face spasmed with unrealized longing before plunging in, her body shuddering underneath his. He began to move faster, with more force, softly calling out her name as she rocked against him. Gasping, she raised her hips, rotating with his erection, moving closer and closer to orgasm.
"Oh, god, Mike, please," she cried, holding onto him for dear life, the first shivers of climax begging to radiate through her body. She begged him to go faster, harder, deeper, and with each request he complied, sliding a hand under her hips to increase their friction.
He slowed his pace, watching her face as he deliberately licked the pad of his thumb then slipped it down, rolling it across her sensitive numb. Once he found the right rhythm, he pulled almost all the way out, shivering as she squeezed around his organ. Pushing into her, he pounded faster and faster, teasing the beginnings of an orgasm out of her with his thumb. Silver beads of sweat formed on his upper lip, and she leaned up to kiss him, tasting the salt mixing with the sweetness of his mouth. Her whole body tensed under him. She pushed frantically at his hand, unable to take the searing manipulation anymore. Throwing her head back, she gulped mouthfuls of air, screaming his name with each shuddering stroke.
Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he leaned down into her, kissing her throat, wrenching his fingers through her hair. Finally, a combined lust that was mutual overtook them. Soon, they exploded into a shared climax, both trembling.
Mike's body dropped besides hers, pulling her close to him, their bodies together like puzzle pieces. He gently stroked her hair smiling as she pushed his hair out of his face.
"That was the best interrogation I've ever had," he whispered, jokingly.
Casey let out a faint laugh. "I have to agree."
He drew in a deep breath, then kissed her gently on her lips.
"Hey, Spenser. Can you do me a favor?"
Casey looked up, confused.
Across from her, Anthony was snapping his fingers.
"Hey, Spense. You okay?" he asked.
She looked around, realizing she was in the department, still standing in front of the coffee machine. She ran her hands over her face, letting out a frustrated sigh. She spread her fingers and looked at her partner. Anthony was pointing to his left. She dropped her hands down her side s she turned to see what he was pointing at. Mike stood at her side, scratching the side of his head.
"Uh... yeah," she forced out, picking up her coffee to take a drink.
"Since Anita's on the phone, you got time to talk to a suspect with me? I got a woman involved in a domestic dispute."
She almost choked on her coffee when he said that. She quickly put her cup down as her hand started to shake, fearing she would drop it. She backed up. "I...I can't. Ask Anita."
"I thought -- " he started to say.
She shook her head. She was about to lose it.
Lieutenant Anita Van Buren stepped out of her office, seeing the gathering of personnel. Oh, shit. They're at it again, she thought, having seen the two square off against each other more times than she liked. Walking out of her office, she stepped between the two with her hands on her hips. "Is there something wrong here?"
"N...no," Casey said, fighting the nauseous feeling that was growing in her abdomen.
"I had asked her to help me interview a suspect," Mike said, looking at Casey oddly.
Anita looked at the other woman for a moment, studying the expression she wore. She'd seen that look before; she'd even been a similar victim herself before. She smiled. "Go on, Spense. Take the rest of the day off. I can handle this."
Casey walked over to her desk, grabbing her jacket off her chair and her purse, leaving the department in a rush.
Mike, Lennie, and Anthony stood watching Casey leave the squad room with similar expressions of confusion. As Anita turned, heading towards the vending machine, the men followed her.
"What's with her?" Mike asked.
Anita looked at the three men, as she dropped the coins into the machine. She smiled as she leaned forward, retrieving her soda.
"What gives, Anita?" Lennie asked.
"You know something we don't?" Anthony asked.
Anita continued to smile as she stepped passed them, walking back into the squad room. "I think the heat's getting to her," she said, while thinking, She'll be fine after a cold shower and a cigarette.