Daniel & Adrienne Ficlet

**Warning **

This story is erotic in nature. If you offended by such media, please click away and read the regular story-line as it is rated PG-13.

When the door to his lab slammed open, the normally heavy entranceway metal crashing onto the concrete wall behind it, the last thing he expected to see was Adrienne storming in, ripping her shirt from her head, a flourish a cajun swears cascading across her lips.

"Acting like a gah damn galette, donna wanna take any kinda risks like this gah damn job isn't one big pic kee anyway," she muttered loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough where he was certain no one from the hallway would hear her even if they could understand what she was saying anyway. He barely did, and they had been friends for hell, two years, taking for the past six months and he secretly kept a webpage book marked for occasions such as these.  This time, however, rather than click to said webpage, Daniel stood, walking to the far corner of the room to turn off the camera, lest her rant begin to name names, a certain name in particular.

"And what I donna understand," she continued, now raising her voice as Daniel rushed over to the door, closing and locking it as well, urging her with his hands to continue, " is dat here we be, busting our tchew to find all a dis and when we do it's like no one gives one gah damn merde!"

Shit, Daniel caught, so apparently her proposal to use the magnets in the ZPM from the one recovered from the Mayan ruins to find others weren't taken so well. He knew they wouldn't be, but he had hoped that, with as much time as she spent on the presentation that would have considered it, gotten back to her later, but apparently not. He stood in silence as his girlfriend continued to rant and rave, becoming less understandable by the minute, standing at her locker in a sports bra, kicking off her boots.

"Ad, I'm sorry," he started, but she was shaking her head the moment her name was spoken.

"It's nah your fault Indy, 'tis nah," she continued, her accent dissipating as she gained control over the inner swamp monster trapped inside her beautiful body.  Letting out a sigh, Daniel walked over to her, turning her by her shoulders and pulling her into his arms.

"You tried and that is all we can do is try," he offered, kissing her head lightly. The tension released, slightly and he felt her wrap her arms around his waist, burying his head in her chest.

"I'm not gonna cry," she said, accent back to normal.

"They don't deserve that," he replied, kissing her again and backing up as he felt her push him away. She appeared calmer, so he decided to give her some space, squeezing her hand before letting go entirely to return to his desk. Glancing back at his screen, he heard a zip and some buttons and knew instantly that she was changing to go run, which at this point she definitely needed, so he clicked back to what he had been doing before, knowing she would talk when she was ready.

Bor, son of Buri begat Frigg, brother of Odin....

Daniel was translating slowly, hoping Adrienne was alright, but afraid to look in her direction just in case she needed a target to blow up at again and he became that target. In fact, he was so worried about this, mostly because of the muttering going on behind him, that he was taken completely by surprise when the was whipped around in his chair to face her, not wearing her running clothes, instead in a tank top, no bra and thong underwear.

"I thought you were going to run," he stammered, both surprised and aroused. Smiling, Adrienne sauntered closer, shaking her head as she approached, crawling slowly into his lap.

"I do need to burn some energy, but I have an ahnvee," she stated seductively, grinding against the growing hardness in his pants as he translated the cajun french word in his head. Hunger, she had a hunger, and judging by her actions he knew exactly what she had a hunger for...

He didn't have time for a witty response, she didn't allow it, diving her lips to his neck, biting, sucking while she drove her hand between their legs, squeezing at his, teasing and urging. Evidently, she wanted him to have an ahnvee as well, and judging by where she was working her teeth on his neck, high, behind the ear and the intentionally clumsy way that she was grabbing him. Normally he would have cautioned her about cameras, but fearing what she would call Woolsey on tape he had shut them off, a fact she had obviously taken into account. They shouldn't be doing this, but logic out the window as he libido took over, Daniel reached behind to her bare butt, pulling her closer to him, kneading the muscular flesh as she changed her biting to licking, more like tracing his neck with the tip of her tongue, stopping at his jawline, kissing her way over to his mouth. Opening his own, he invited her lips, her tongue, tasting coffee and sweetener as he moved in to explore himself. Quickly her rubbing changed to bucking and he was aware by the movement of her hands, off of his waist and moving toward the buckle of his BDU's that she was ready for more, ready for him.  He allowed her the pleasure, tracing his own hands from her rear and underneath her things, slipping his fingers past the thin strip of fabric that she called underwear and into her wet entrance.  She gasped, adjusting her position and spreading her legs, slightly standing he thought, to allow him to toy while she continued toward her destination. Throbbing, he was throbbing as she fumbled, distracted by his long fingers sliding in and out of her, rubbing the hardness between her legs each time she leaned forward. He wanted to ask her to stand so he could remove the obstacle, but he could barely think, could barely form words and she unfastened the buckle, frantically ripping at the buttons in the fly to release him from his prison.

"Hurry," he urged her, unaware that the words were even escaping his mouth, and she backed from his lips, smiling, ripping and pulling until it was open, at last it was open and she reached inside, her soft warm hands grasping him, stroking him and then releasing. He started to argue, to tell her to stop toying with him when he felt hands at his hips, she was standing again, slightly, urging his pants and boxers to his ankles. Lifting his hips he complied, starting to pull them to the floor but leaving the rest to her as he ripped the red lace thong underwear from her body, the tear confirming that he had indeed ripped them from her body.  She caught his eyes, mischief in those brown orbs of hers, and smiled at him, teasing, picking, playing and he went to speak, went to defend himself when he felt it, felt her, tight, warm and wet sliding onto him.  He groaned out at the sensation of entering her body, reaching instinctively for her hips to push her onto himself further, rocking in his chair.

"Daniel," she murmured, feeling his guidance, letting him angle her pelvis where he knew she liked, where he would hit her right there each and every time she tilted forward, earning him a clench in reward with each sensual tap.  Moving his hips faster, he guided her into a perfect rhythm, one that she could keep without him, freeing his hands for other endeavors.  She moaned out again, something else in cajun that he didn't bother to try to translate, his focus on her heaving chest, covered only by the thin tank top fabric, fabric so thin it was unable to hide her current level of excitement.  Shoving the hem of the garment to her neck, Daniel dove his mouth to her nipple, one free hand caressing her other breast and the second holding her behind her back, closer to him, his lap, his mouth.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her throw back her head and felt him clenching inside of her, tightly, not letting go, and of course it was so soon, she had a hunger, she had been racing with adrenaline and they were in the lab, forbidden territory, in his chair, having sex like it was just part of their day. It was hot, he knew it was hot, and bit down, probably harder than he should have, but she didn't protest, just arched her back trusting that he would hold her, rocking her pelvis forward wildly. She usually warned him, usually wanted them to climax together, but she was clearly too far gone for that now, her movements intensifying with her voice, as her shouts grew louder and louder, calling out his name and aborde, and he knew that cajun word, complying the best he could, forcing her down harder onto his erection from her lower back. He thought she would finish before him, so he was focusing all of his energy of pleasing her, pleasuring her, making her orgasm when the explosion hit forcefully, unexpectantly, and he was leaning forward, holding her closer to his body, groaning into the crook of her neck as she screamed out his name again, her hand hanging back, neck exposed, a neck he wanted to kiss, suck, bite, were it not for the waves of pleasure rolling through his body. The world went hazy for a moment, he couldn't think, couldn't move and then she was resting in his arms, her own lightly clasped at his shoulders. Breathing out, it took him a moment to realize what had happened, and he scanned the room as if someone had been there watching, ready to catch them, but they were alone, he knew they were alone, he just felt the need to reassure himself.

"We broke our rule," she whispered into his ear.

"Ya think?" he joked, pulling her tank top back down and running his hands lovingly down her back.  She didn't respond as she cuddled closer to him, longing for his touch some more.

"You just used me, for tension relief," he added, running his nose lightly at her ear, teasing her, wanting to see her flush as his words, which she did, a tinge of red forming at the back of her cheeks.

"Sorry," she answered, falsely, starting to pull away, but he held her fast in his grasp.

"You're not finished. I know you," he led, gazing into her eyes. She laughed, he did know her, and she shook her head before responding.

"Robert Woolsey is a maudit cocette and he can go fuck himself," she replied, leaning in to kiss his lips once more.