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snailsandpuppy-dogtails · 9 months

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Happy Birthday

Smut Fic Sunday! Garvez Smut WC: Lordy, lordy, 9,031! Ao3

It’s Luke’s birthday and all he wants to do is cuddle with Penelope, but instead he’s agreed to go with her to a massive comic and scifi convention. With not a mention of his birthday all day, Luke fears she’s forgotten it, but Penelope Garcia would never.

He was woken by the feel of kisses lightly pattering like rain on bare skin across the ball of his shoulder and high on his chest. An easy smile curled as he coiled and released a shuttering stretch. “Good morning” Luke finished with a little grunting sigh, a warm arm wrapping around the even warmer Penelope Garcia laying next to him, his lips finding hers the instant his vision shifted from dreamy darkness to peachy dawn.

This. If he had his way, this is how he’d spend this birthday and every one after, wrapped up hazily in the plush surroundings of his bed with her next to him, all thoughts fluffy and light, mush and warmth.

Nails lightly scratched down his stomach as she snuggled down deeper into his side, cheek nuzzling between his breast. “Are you excited for today?”

“Excited?” Luke made a face, “Intrigued?” “Always, with you.”

Penelope tilted her head to look up, still listening to the steady beat of his heart, “Remember, it’s a two day thing: today costumes and panels, tomorrow, booths and shopping.” Index and middle fingers tapped his sternum counting off the vague itinerary. “So today, we dress up, but you can pack whatever you want for tomorrow.”

Patting his chest and kissing the tip of his nose, she then got up to shower and prep their costumes, hers, an original-run Star Trek uniform, his, very blandly, Cas from Supernatural. But she wouldn’t fault him for what he was comfortable in, she was simply happy he was going with her.

Getting ready, he thought about how out of character it was that she hadn’t mentioned his birthday yet. He knew she didn’t forget, she’d been conflicted about going to the con at all because of it. He’d told her that was crazy and his birthday wasn’t a big deal, that the convention was important to her. But it wasn’t like her to brush off a birthday entirely, either.

Even in the before days when he pleaded that they not do anything, she’d cover his desk in little decorations and make traps to spring out of his drawers to annoy him. Of course, she blamed those on Spencer because “why would she go through that much trouble for someone who doesn’t appriciate her efforts?”

Spencer always heavily denied it was him, not that he needed to.

Hell, she’d even started celebrating Roxy’s birthday once she tracked it down; making little cards addressed to the care of Roxy’s ‘furdaddy’ and leaving a new toy and treats.

This was his first birthday with her no longer his coworker though, their first as a couple. Maybe she was trying to respect his wishes.

Yeah. Right.

She probably had something bigger and more embarrassing planned.

The day was a whirlwind from the second they stepped foot in the lobby. Upon arrival he prepared for her announcing it was his birthday to the front desk, the onslaught of well wishes and prompts for arrangements. But once they’d checked in, she rushed on, not a word uttered.

“Come on, we’ve gotta get going, this one starts in 45 minutes.” Penelope directed, nose pointed to the schedule on her phone, “I want to get semi-decent seats. The bellboys can take our stuff up.” With a wave of her hand, she quickly fired off their room number to a staff person waiting beside the desk, ending with a bubblegum “thank you,” and pulled Luke back out of the hotel and in the direction of the convention hall, leaving no chance to settle in or catch his bearings. And no mention of a birthday.

Their day was packed with writers and actors divulging secrets and inspirations, stories of off-screen pranks, micro-table reads, and candid answers to fan questions, character contests, workshops, discussion panels, art competitions, and improv sessions.

He thought at one point while raising her hand, she was going to tell the cast and get the hall to sing to him, but she praised an actor for his support of retired animal rescues, then asked about the origin of a vegan pulled pork recipe he’d contributed to a fan zine in the 80s.

During a brief lull they ended up having lunch with recent mega-star, Lila Archer, who was there as part of the cast promotion for the newest DC movie. He didn’t even know Penelope knew her, but they both quickly filled him in on the way they’d met. Stupidly, he thought she might bring it up then, but all they talked about was how awesome it was to finally hang out in person, about how Spencer and Derek were doing, and how different but just the same L.A. is now to when Penelope left all those years ago. Not a peep of happy birthday.

At the end of their long day the elevator rose, and with each floor his hope - was he really hoping now? - rose ever higher.

She hadn’t let him see the room, had made someone else take their stuff, had kept both keycards, redirected or made excuses when he’d try to bring up wanting to head back to the hotel, they were in an elevator that didn’t seem to be making any stops for other floors and wasn’t counting them off…And when he thought about it, there really was no reason to stay in a hotel rather than their own comfy bed and drive back in the morning. Maybe she was planning something up at the top. Maybe this was going to some banquet hall where his friends and the team would be waiting. He wasn't sure if the idea was exhausting or relieving.

Slipping a card out of her pocket she draped her arms around his neck hanging against him, Luke responded with an arm to her waist, supporting her. She leaned in, faces a blink apart and kissed him, grinning and lazy, punch drunk from the day, sending them both tumbling into the doors. Penelope, pressed against him and pressing further, arched as she inhaled into the kiss, the blue micro-mini of her costume rising shorter with every wave of her body on his, but stopped when the elevator dinged. She didn’t even say it then, just pulled back and scanned the card, triggering the doors.

Doors which opened not to a hallway, but a room.

A room he could tell was void of people.

Their room? Which, if correct, he had to admit was pretty cool, but wasn’t very secure.

Maybe that’s why the elevator hadn’t gone to any other levels, maybe it couldn’t.

But again, there was nothing. No one. No streamers, no surprise, no happy birthday.

Just dark, empty, space. He must have looked disappointed because when she took his hand leading him out of the elevator she turned back with the most adorably sincere expression on her face, asking in the sweetest tone, “What’s wrong? Luke?” eyes wide, imploring.

Ah, right, ‘profiler by association’. He couldn’t let something as trivial as no birthday get to him. He’d maintained it didn’t matter, was he going to make her feel guilty when suddenly, apparently, it did?

Luke tugged her in closer, smiling, “Nothing, Chica, I’m a little tired is all,” he lied, and placed a peck on her lips. Penelope pulled away eyeing him, searching for something.

Seemingly satisfied at what she’d found, she simply said, “Ok,” and stepped back. “I’m going to get changed and hang things up in the bathroom, unless you want to?”

He released her hand, declining the offer, “You go ahead, I’ll take a look around, try and find the light switch…”

“Ohh!” she exclaimed, the mention of lighting apparently having reminded her of something, “There’s supposed to be a working fireplace, maybe we can use it!”

“Are we camping now? Have we been teleported?” Luke chuckled at the Penelope of it all. A fireplace in a hotel. Of course.

She’d gotten the penthouse suite in a ritzy hotel built in the 50s. Back then it had supposedly been a place for dignitaries and visiting council to cool their heels…and a hide-away for Presidents wanting to meet ladies clandestinely. Close enough to the Whitehouse, but far enough to not get caught…The perfect setting for her perfect gift.

Finding the light panel and switching it on lit up a scattering of dim warm lamps and pouf-like floor lights, yellows and pinks illuminated the room.

Looking around, it was a very large and stylish, if time-warped, place. The décor was all midcentury swank; black leather Eames lounge chair, one of those spaceship looking fireplaces enameled red, a thick white “fur” circular rug, and a large angular cherry wood desk against the far wall which, in all it’s glowing navy glory, couldn’t be ignored, was entirely glass- floor to ceiling.

In place of a wall there was a massive window and a view overlooking the whole of National Mall. The Washington Monument, Capitol Building, and Lincoln Memorial were all in a row from here, interspersed with reflection pools mirroring the alabaster glow of the erections against the inky blue sky. Taking it in, he tried not to think too much about the whole birthday disappointment, tried to be thankful for this, at least.

It’s not that he minded, they’d been busy. There was a lot she wanted to squeeze in to the day and there were guest speakers she said hadn’t been to a convention in years. Could he blame her? She was happy. Deliriously so. He liked seeing Penelope happy. Lived to make her happy.

He honestly didn’t like big celebrations. All that attention and spectacle being made over him. But he wasn’t arrogant enough to not be thankful he’d made it another year; for so long his jobs were so treacherous he was lucky to have made it another day. Though these last few years were less statistically dangerous due to the job change, it was still a dangerous field and anything could go wrong given the right situation so his perspective hadn’t changed in that regard. The thing that changed was that every day he got to wake up with her, and waking up with her was the best, so really, it didn’t matter as long as she was there.

But he thought there’d be…something.

Despite his protests and insistence, he’d come to anticipate something.

All her extravagance, all of the attention she paid, how she loved to plan and execute and bring joy. How she loved to celebrate. He started to wonder if in her excitement for the convention, she really had forgotten, let it slip her mind. And it was the prospect that Penelope Garcia had forgotten to needle him that was tipping towards turning his world upside down.

Walking deeper into the room, Luke kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks, then loosened the tie and tossed the tan, baggy trench coat of his costume over the back of the lounge chair.

Making his way to the fire place near by, he crouched down to light it, and when success struck, he called through the room “Got your fire going…Do you think we should send for marshmallows?”

Penelope, leaning out from around the bathroom door, considers telling him he’s had her fire going all day, that she’s a toasted marshmallow, but settles on a sighed saccharine “My hero” to get his attention.

Upon hearing her, Luke stood, turning to the sound of her voice. What he saw made his knees buckle, landing on the edge of the lounger.

She’d redone her hair in record time, pinning it up in big fluffy blonde curls like a 60s bombshell. She had one long leg out, curving it around the door frame in an imitation of those vintage cartoon stripteases, thigh and calf and high stiletto rubbing flush against the wall before she comes out, revealing an entirely new outfit. Gathered white silk chiffon clings to her shoulders and swoops across her full breast. She twirls slowly, the fabric of the skirt floating up to tease lavender satin and lace waiting underneath, her hands trailing the curves of her body as she does.

“You are, you know…” she says low and sultry.

All thoughts frozen on the woman before him, he offers only an uncomprehending “What-?” in response.

No matter how often he’s seen her, no matter how often they’ve met like this, his all responds. No matter how many times he’s known her inside and out, turned her inside and out, the sight of this part of her, just for him, takes his breath away.

“…so I thought I’d treat you like one.”

“Like what?” He bubbles a low staggered laugh. Nerves. She’s making him nervous in only the way Penelope Garcia can.

“Happy birthday to you…happy birthday to you…” she starts singing velvety and slow. Penelope slinking towards him. Luke watches the whole time, unable to take his eyes off her, not wanting to besides. He knows he must look like an idiot, slack-jawed and nervous dopy smile, he swallows and he can feel his heart thump hard in his chest. For some reason he can’t explain the whole thing is making him uncomfortable but in the best way. An ache breaks out all over, nerve endings exploding with anticipation, needing to see what else she’s planned, what gift this is.

She hadn’t forgotten.

“…happy birthday, Mr.” she pauses, then winks, “-Alvez. Happy birthday to you.”

Penelope, his very own Marilyn, perches on his knee as she finishes, dress rustling under her, “A hero” she answers finally, “…you’re my hero.”

She’s kept up the breathy tone, deep and playful and provocative, but letting the mask slip for just a minute, she frames his face with her hands, whispering, “Happy birthday, my beautiful boy, my Luke” and then, like her approach, she kisses him slow, nails trailing his chest over his wrinkled button-up, the hem of her dress brushing his thigh. Automatically Luke reaches up, fingers knotting in her hair, wanting to pull her in, to kiss her deeper. It was his birthday and the only present he wanted was now in his hands.

But she has other plans. “Ah, ah.” Penelope chides, gently pulling away, “Tonight, because it’s your birthday, and I’m so grateful for you, I’m worshiping at your throne.”

Rising from his lap, Penelope takes a step back, thinking briefly that she was smart for having taken up yoga and pilates during the pandemic, they would definitely be needed…Snapping her fingers, she grins when slow instrumental music starts to play. She’d programmed her phone to respond to the sound and asked staff set up bluetooth speakers before their arrival. One hand skates over and up her chest as the other drags up her leg pulling the hem of her skirt higher, exposing her thigh, her body leisurely snaking to the music.

Luke pushes up to stand, to thread his arms around her and join in her revere, but is met with halting finger tips, Penelope making eye contact, “No touching the dancers, Mr. Alvez. Let your eyes enjoy.”

Her push meets little resistance, a crooked smile flashing back at her, Luke falling complacently into the curve of the chair. He likes it when she calls him that, Mr. Alvez, she has a way of making it sound scolding, like a slap and at the same time dirty and full of promise. Just the way she says it makes him ache with want.

Penelope lets her head fall back and her mouth drop open, a hand ghosting up her neck and through her hair. She plucks out bobbypins that get lost in the rug, long gold waves cascading down her shoulders, hips moving in a tortiously slow figure-eight. Fingers gather up her skirt and tease high up her legs, exposing more skin, almost high enough, but never quite there. Her dress swoops and sways with the movements, throwing shadows to the wall like a dozen dancing Penelopes against the firelight, Luke rubs his palms high on his legs and licks his lips thinking about just the one.

Turning away, Penelope does a wiggling sink to the floor, her hands lifting up a mess of hair as she looks over her shoulder, “Would you?”

“You said no touching the dancers…”

“A quick exception, but if you’d rather your present stay wrapped?”

Luke smirks leaning up to unzip it just enough, fingers brushing skin, a subtle exchange of “There?” and “thank you” traded in small smiles and eyebrow flicks, Luke once again obediently leaning away.

Smoothly, Penelope rises, turning, pulling the zipper down as she does until it reaches its end and she’s standing once again facing him, the straps of her dress just barely holding their place to her body. She does a deep shoulder dip towards him, slipping out one arm and then the other, the dress falling to the floor in a susurrus whoosh revealing underneath, the teasing lavender from earlier.

Luke lets his eyes slowly rove over the expanse of her, softly glowing gold from firelight. She’s standing before him in a strapless lavender bra topped with a large cream satin bow, perfectly hugging and elevating her ample chest. Matching lavender underwear straddles the curve of her hips, eyelash lace running up the middle, dividing her and splitting with her legs- a filthy, un-Marilyn like thing, something he was finding desperately sexy in the moment. Fantasies of fucking her though her underwear, the thought of the sensations that tickling lace running up and down his shaft would bring as he enters her again and again, how easy it was to get to her, how easy it might have been all day…He thinks of the photobooth, her sitting on his lap, his hand resting on her knee under the table at lunch, the elevator, opportunities secretly denied.

A stuck breath escapes seized lungs and his fingers wrap and bite into the bottom of the armrests as Luke’s vision drifts back up to find her expectantly taking in his appraisal. With Penelope wrapped like a gift, topped with a bow, he could think of little else to say, humming a low, agreeing, “Happy birthday to me…”

She grins, starting a passive loop around the chair, leaving his view. His head turns slightly watching her fingers skate along his shoulders and when they get to the nape of his neck, he watches her shadow on the wall. Her nails comb over his scalp drawing out a rush of goosebumps, and his head falls back to catch a heated glimpse of her.

Gentle fingers brush down his cheek and curl around his jaw, and when she’s at his side, Penelope leans back across his lap, hands the only contact to his body. She draws herself up slowly and crosses in front of him, arching over him, lips baiting his but never touching, hips swiveling leisurely to the music, then turns to face away from him sinking to sit back on her heels between his feet. She leans back, her head rolling gently on the chair between his knees, closing her eyes. He watches from above as pale hands massage over the bow on her chest, the swell of her blushing breast rising and falling with her breath, hands that work over her collar, up her neck, through her hair… her thighs rubbing together, her lips parting in a look of pure ecstasy. She’s panting lightly and starts, with a wave of her body, to wash back up him, back to chest. She opens her eyes, softly connecting with his, her hands making their way from her hair to his thighs, his thighs to his sides, his side to his chest, finally looping around his neck, her head landing on his shoulder, her breath washing across his skin, and Luke can’t help but notice somehow, maddeningly, she’s managed to keep all touch from his groin.

Her hands crisscross and she rotates over him, body still writhing and undulating, a knee is brought up beside his thigh, and then the other, Penelope framing him, straddling him, the pressure of her legs against his, her hips sink and brush, but never make contact. Undoing his tie, she takes hold of one end, pulling as she does a rolling backbend, tie and Penelope slipping away from him, towards the fire, her body making shallow waves. He watches, her movements directing his gaze, her breasts pooling as she falls back, the roll of her stomach…hands and fabric caressing her bare thighs…the split of her underwear, Penelope split open in front of him. He sees how wet she’s made herself and is reminded once again, how easy it would be to take her, to leave all this behind and impatiently get to the point. But as if knowing, her hips lift, Penelope shifting to draw herself back up. Gyrating, swaying left and right, Penelope curls over him, satin and skin, her soft, fire-warmed tits in his face, her hands in his hair.

And then Luke’s hands are on Penelope’s hips, breaking the rule, taking hold and bringing her down, her lips drag across his cheek in a whimper as his strong guiding grip grinds her against his zippered erection, Luke moaning, deliciously heavy pressure on her bare clit, slick juice coating his trousers, her body shuddering against his.

Penelope catches herself at the end of the exhale, pushing off his shoulders, pushing off his lap onto shaky legs. “-not yet” She wants to, she wants to simply have at it right here in the chair, to ride him until she’s a panting glistening breathless mess. But that would be selfish. And this was for him, to praise and bestow and make him feel mind-blowingly desired and admired and to make him feel godlike.

It was a quietly kept secret that Luke had usurped her in the caring department, always placing others before himself, often to the point of neglecting his own wants, today being a perfect example. She’d decided it was time he felt what it was to be spoiled.

“But what if I want my gift now?” he asks, lip jutting out of a frown, big, sad, puppy-dog eyes.

The sight of him pouting is almost too much, and she can’t hold back a giggle, “If you really do, I won’t say no…but good things come to those who wait.” She whispers, “Close your eyes” sealing the instruction with a kiss, sinking to her knees between his wide spread. Light, deft fingers move from button to button as her mouth moves from jaw to throat, kissing and sucking, her lips and tongue wrapping warm and wet around his Adam’s apple, suction practiced enough to turn him on, but light enough to avoid leaving marks. With the last button undone, she gently pulls his shirt tails free, hands swooping under fabric and over shoulders to rid him of his shirt.

The garment joining her dress in a rumpled pile on the floor, her hands move back to him, every part of him smoothly crinkled elasticity, gently wrinkling skin coating tender muscle. Up this close they can’t deny their age. This is what, his 48th birthday? Clicking joints and scars, broken noses, and sore backs are starting to take hold, but Luke takes care of himself, has to, she knows, and though this, him, his body is nothing new to her, the act of slowing down, taking him in millimeter by millimeter is. She’d caressed him before, kissed him, stroked the inches of his bare flesh, but often Luke preferred to be the one in this position, down on his knees, feeling her rise to a polished shine. He was a giver, that’s why this was so important, that’s why this gift was special, she wants him to know just how cared for, how loved he is, how high she holds him. She wants him to feel just the way he makes her feel time and time again.

She takes her time moving southward left and right, lips just barely lifting, drifting in wisps from mole to freckle, down the terrain of his pecks and his abs, licking and sucking on warm, soft nipples, finding the little trail of hair above his navel and swirling her tongue down it, kissing the rippling skin above his belly button.

His hands flutter from armrests to shoulders, shadows lightly hovering, flexing, quietly encouraging her. She opens her mouth wide over his navel and drags her teeth closed, pulling just a little, soothing with her tongue, tasting him, feeling the muscles tighten and flutter under her devotion, her fingertips brushing over ribs in ribbon-like swoops. She can hear his breathing becoming heavy and thick above her and the moans he holds back washing into sighs, his hips rocking ever so slightly in time with the music. She’s proud. Of her restraint, of his, that she gets to do this for him, that he’s letting her, that she gets to be the one calling forth his pleasure.

And pleasure it is, every movement a tickle sending blood rushing down to his already throbbing dick, her wet hot lips fat and full on his chest, on his stomach, her fingers drawing lazy, distracting circles, the heavy weight of her satin covered tits slipping over and over, down his cock and up his lap, bobbing and bouncing as she laps lower and lower down his torso, short slick little swipes, getting closer and closer.

When she reaches the point where she’s run out of skin, she suckles at the base of her path, the lowest point on his abs right above his groin, that distinct arrow pointing down, directing… Nerves light up like a string to his cock, so close, suction so good, her hands massaging his thighs…

Luke rubs his feet back and forth on the rug to keep from bucking, his grip tightening on her shoulders, releasing a shuttered breath and murmured plea.

Her fingers move to his waistband undoing the hook, lowering the zipper. He opens his eyes watching. Penelope glances up before reaching down and freeing him, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening, connecting with his. She’s looking up at him with a shocked and timid expression. She’s hamming it up, he knows. She knows exactly how big he his, but he doesn’t care that it’s an act, visually, physically, it has the same effect.

Licking her lips,

finally, finally,

she licks the tip, salty dew on soft smooth skin. Gradually she licks more, large swathing circles spiral around him until she’s taking him into the heat of her mouth, damp, slippery, plush. She bobs and sucks, her tongue curling and pulsing around the bottom of his cock, hands squeezing the base. She goes deeper and deeper, saliva flooding her mouth, flooding around him, wetly slurping and sucking like she needs him, and god, the suction of her mouth, the pressure of her hands. His tongue peeks out dampening his lips, “-god yes” Luke sighs and groans her name. Pulling back with hollowed cheeks and tight lips, she ducks forward again, sucking down further, relaxing her throat until she takes him all the way, and hums. Luke sucks his teeth and moans above her, biting his lip at the feeling of her snug and hot and wet and vibrating around him, throat muscles constricting, muffled sounds, his fingers clench in her hair sharply pulling, the control it was taking not to let go and release, not to thrust into her mouth over and over, spill himself down her tight throat, he’s so close.

“Pen, if you don’t-” shaky labored voice joins shaky hand as Luke releases his hold to pet her hair. “I’m gonna-” the sentence is pulled tight as muscles contract and hips jolt up. There are beads of moisture at the corners of her eyes, but her head smoothly follows the thrust of his body rocking back, her hands soothing on his legs. She’d tell him to do it, but her mouth is full, so she brushes her thumbs high on his thighs, when he’s settled back down she hums higher, louder, and then touches herself, rubbing her breasts under the bow and moans loudly around him. Warm pleasure ripples like vibration from the head of his cock up through the rest of him, bodily immersed in tingles, balls drawing up, and he can’t hold back. Luke cries out as he comes, Penelope quickly pulling back to suck hard at the silken head, hands gripping and pumping low on his shaft, gummy-soft tongue drawing out his release, swallowing down every drop until she pulls off him with a “pop”

Luke, flush and panting, looks down at her, Penelope wet-eyed peering up at him from her knees, a large thumb clears the saliva from her chin as he draws her up into his lap to kiss her, tasting himself on her tongue. His hands cup her face and burrow in her soft hair, holding her just so, kissing her gently, hands move to lightly massage up and down her back. And lips, full, scruff scraping lips move to her collar, sucking lazily at her shoulder, nipping a path to the blushing pink tissue overflowing her suddenly very constricting bra. She can feel his tongue wedging its way between cup and flesh, nose and teeth working towards some common goal, feeling it when he mumbles into her skin in frustration, making out “fuck it,” just before the bra falls loose between them, coming unclasped, A muffled triumphant sound swathes her breasts, the objects of his struggle now free. Luke’s hand comes between them to pull and fling the ribbon of his gift somewhere far away before joining lips and tongue in a stroking, feasting hold.

Her fingers alternate between tensing and curling at the base of his skull, and surging up through thick waves, her hips mindlessly chase forward, rubbing and grinding to the pulse Luke’s fete delivers. Grateful, devouring gulps punctuate his hunger for her as he switches left to right, rippling tongue and muscular lips enrobing taught nipple and areola, his arms wrapping around her back and to her sides keeping her close, his energy rebuilding with each brush of contact.

Nails zing up his scalp, small gasps and hard swallows float above him, hips crash in waves against him. She’s straddling high up his lap, those fine strands of lace brushing cool, delicious tickles to his bare cock mixing with her heated, slick vulva, the feeling, even without penetration, even better than he'd imagined.

A hard nipple puckers from the shift in temperature as lips switch to the other, she tosses her head back wanting the feel of those lips on hers. Her eyes roll from the light pressure and drag of teeth over stimulated nerves. Head twisting, she catches the erotic shadow theater playing out on the wall, the same one being acted out on her, glittering silver strands of Pan-like curls descending on her. Captivated, she grinds and ruts, watching their merging silhouettes cast large across the room, Penelope mindlessly seeking relief, friction, their likenesses in the throws of divine worship, and she feels him jump and harden again between them.

Grinning wickedly, Penelope adds a dragging lift to her grind, threading herself up and down his shaft, lifting to tease the hood of her clit on the head of his cock, feeling him ready at her actions. Just a bit higher and she can sink onto the whole hardness of him, lovingly hug and milk him from within until he comes again, until she comes around him.

Her movements push him, and all at once he’s done, he needs her, needs to be in her. Not just her mouth on him, not just her lips against him, but deep inside, feeling her drumming pulse, feeling her coming around him. He arches and shimmies his hips, shucking the rest of his clothing to the floor. Mouth now trailing back up, back to find her lips, to capture them, tongue against tongue and flesh against flesh, his hands caressing the ticklish bare skin of her inner thighs.

She smiles against his lips, murmuring, “Glad you finally put on that birthday suit, it looks good.”

Luke pulls away from the kiss, Penelope’s hands coming to sit on his chest, thumbs strumming absently on the bits of hair around his nipples. “Just good?” he asks, eyebrow arching and teasing smile spreading.

She smiles, wanting for some quip, but her expression softens taking in the creases around his eyes, taking pride in the fact that she’s had a hand in putting more than a few there. “It is getting a little thin…” her gaze drifts to a scar on his shoulder, her fingers brushing at the edge, “fraying.” She can feel herself getting sentimental, sad. She needs to snap out of it, now isn’t the time. With a smack to his chest, she brightens.

“oww-”

“But! I’ve always liked old things,” she grins, “and tonight, we are young, tonight, this room is our playground. So, Birthday Boy, where do you want to play? The chair, the rug, the bed…?”

Luke’s eyes fall around the room thinking about the options laid out, each situation fulfilling a unique fantasy, but then his eyes fall on the obelisk outside, firm and proud, the wide open window, the expansive view. All he can think is how he wants her there, to show her off to all of DC, to the heavens above, and the people below, Penelope in rapture at his doing…

His lips press open to the base of her throat, taking advantage of the proximity. “Everywhere, Chica, there’s not a place I don’t want you, but, if you think you’d be open to it, I’d like to show my present off...” slow kiss after another he makes his wish to her skin, fingertips drifting, “take you to that window, fuck you against the glass, share that beautiful face as I help you come undone. I want everyone who walks by to know it’s just for me. And that mine is just for you.”

At the reveal Penelope hesitates, the idea unnerving, unsure how she feels about the act, their jobs…being exposed… but she’s sure about him, how utterly she trusts him, completely, with all of her. Her safety, her security are in his hands, she knows he’d never let anything happen, prevent and protect her with all of him. If this was how she could show him that, then she wanted to do it for him.

Penelope pulls him into a deep kiss, lifting from her spot and taking him with her, consenting. Once standing, she lets him lead, Luke carefully guiding her across the room, their lips never parting for long. Gentile brushes and caress are painted on bare skin as they glide over the rug and to the crystal wall, Luke turning her in his hold, a hand low on her belly and one high across her chest cupping her shoulder, his lips nuzzling up the back of her neck, behind her ear. She leans into him, holding his arm, her eyes drifting shut, feeling him better.

Luke watches her in the reflection of the window, how her jaw drops and her lips part, watches as Penelope disappears into Penelope, her body trapped to herself and him, his hard cock pressing into the silken curve of her underwear, and delivers a sharp bite to her neck, then eases back, opening up space in front of her. His hand leaves her belly letting it make contact with the cold glass, the other moves to warm her tits. Her dripping cunt has left a mark on the window through the split in the lace and Luke swipes at it, collecting some on his fingers to feel her out, rubbing at her pulsing clit. Penelope’s stance widens and her body sinks down and then up, Luke’s fingers pushing past the lace, pushing up into her.

He kisses her neck, lips moving in suction all over her shoulder, her legs falling apart a little more, giving him more room, allowing more space for his hands to work. His thumbprint brushes quick heavy strokes to her swollen clit, satin sheathed thumbnail delivering dampened rhythmic clicks against the glass, index and middle fingers spreading and twisting and thrusting inside her, Luke grinding himself against the smooth fabric separating them, Penelope’s breathing becoming shorter, gasping, Luke switches finger positions, the two coming together as one, long middle finger finding and teasing, rubbing and crooking against the spongy part of her, the part that tickles and drives her wild, he goes faster and faster, her legs squirming and hips jumping but he doesn’t let up. She can feel her muscles constrict in a ball, heavy and low in her belly, her breath light and airy, her tongue whipping out to lick and her head tossing, the rest of her unable to do much else, he’s going to make her cum on his fingers before he gives himself up.

Hard and throbbing between them, hips pulsing and dragging, he watches her. She’s lost in the feeling, the euphoria he’s creating, his skin on hers, his lips on her, the sounds he’s pulling out of her just for him. But she’s watching him in the glass too, how his brow pinches before his mouth descends, his tongue swiping out to lick at his lips, his strong fingers kneading her breast and his hand quickly vanishing and reappearing between her shaking thighs. She’s on the edge, about to cum, when movement outside draws her attention.

Vision coming to focus on the view outside, she sees a group of people walking up the path to the lobby and she can tell when Luke does too. His actions growing light, teeth teasing at the delicate and sensitive joining of her neck and shoulder, his thumb backing off to just barely circle her, fingers slowing to spread and crook inside her again. Penelope whines out at the change in pressure and pace, a sharp frustrated sound reverberating around the room as a damp palm slaps high above her and her eyes squeeze shut momentarily. Her nails scramble and fingers flex and spread on the glass, then streak down only to grab the back of his head holding him to her. Her panted breath fogs the window slightly obscuring the view, but they’re only five floors up so she notices when a man in the group of pedestrians stops, seemingly watching them. She wonders if he can actually see them, if it was her hit that drew his attention, or just the building itself.

Luke keeps up his now teasing strokes, not stopping, though he must see the man too.

She’s spread wide and bare and there’s a man down below very possibly watching what they’re obviously doing.

She thought if it happened, if someone did walk by she’d feel embarrassed, all of her on display, a stranger seeing her naked body, a stranger watching her in such an intimate act. But, she realizes, she doesn’t.

The hand between her legs slides out, pressing firmly up her belly and across her hipline, fingers march in a playful two step down her thigh. “Still ok?” washes in a breathy check-in up her neck.

Penelope turns her head, lips finding his, kiss lingering “Yes.”

Luke cups and rubs at the swell of her thigh before hiking her leg up and over his own, his knee bracing on the translucent barrier in front of them. His hips push into the back of her, his cock threading between them with his rocking sway, lace and skin whispering, crying against him, then slowly, deliberately, he penetrates her, a grunting gratified sigh passing her ear as he settles himself fully. Penelope keens at the tight fill and throb clashing with her own pulse, swallowing thickly, trying not to move, all of her wanting to move. Luke’s hand skates with heavy pressure up her stomach and to her chest, strong hands grabbing and pushing her breasts together, fingers pinching nipples as he pulls them back apart, she jerks, bucking back into him reflexively, her body curling at the touch and swallows a shriek as she forces him deeper, his weighty slow drags matching her slow drag up. Luke grinds into her, bringing her closer to the glass, his lips brush her ear, murmuring “Do you see him Penelope? Watching you? Envying me?”

Her eyes glue to the man outside, heavy breaths pushing up from low inside.

“Do you think he’ll think about you tonight? About seeing you?” Measured and impeding, Luke slowly thrusts in and out of her, sucking soft kisses down the side of her throat.

“Do you think he’ll cum imaging himself fucking you?”

She feels the tickle of eyelashes as he kisses her again, trails the side of her neck with the tip of his nose, soft lower lip dragging after.

“He wants you,”

Another kiss, damp, pulling.

His vision shifts in focus from the man outside to Penelope’s reflection in the glass and back. His arm moves to hold her waist, positioning her to push her tits into the cold window, with every thrust their wrapped legs spread further until they’re flush to it and he continues to drag himself in and out of her, her clit rubbing firm on the icy barrier, the lace of her underwear delivering a million little licks to his shaft with every pull.

“He wants to feel your full. hot. body…” he punctuates with three sharper thrusts before reverting to the dragging pace, “shaking and cuming around him…”

Penelope writhes and whimpers in his hold, her legs quivering and her muscles clenching around his cock, spurred on by his voice.

“Ohhh,” Luke hums, “you like that? Do you want him to?” His hand trails her belly across her hip holding her to him, circling his hips, dragging fuller, longer strokes into her, her swollen clit peeling and sticking to the glass with his oscillations.

Penelope leans back into Luke as much as she can, shaking her head and panting “nu-uh.” and licks at her lips. He can see her brow drawn up in concentration.

“I think you do, I think you like the thought of that. Do you want him?”

It’s not jealous, or possessive, it’s curious, almost reverent. Her throat is dry, and she swallows before breathing out “-no”

He places small kisses behind her ear, moving her hair to one side and continues down the back of her neck, soft lips on the ball of her shoulder, “If not him, then who? Tell me.”

A shiver runs down her spine, her legs trembling in his hold, he continues the beat, measured, long thrusts. “You-” she whines at his fingers suddenly playing against her clit, making it harder to answer “-You” she repeats clearer, louder, her hips push back desperately into his, ass slamming into groin, hands bouncing and slipping on the window, no purchase to be found. She tries to sink lower, to force him to speed up, she wishes he’d speed up, make her cum. She can feel her walls throbbing, hard and quick around him. Needing him.

“Shh, shh, shh…” Luke calms, steadying her, “Will you cum for me?”

“yes. Luke-” she wants to, though she’s not sure she can, needing more, faster than this teasing pace he’s stipulated.

Luke glances down, the man now alone, head pointed high up to them “Even with him watching?” He kisses her flushed cheek and nips at her jaw.

“Yes!”

“Then do it, beautiful girl, cum for me. Show me how devoted you are.” Simultaneously Luke pulls out and thrusts up swiftly, pinching her clit and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Penelope’s surprised squeal melts into a moan, body convulsing, coming hard, her hips try to pitch, but she’s forced immobile against the glass and Luke as soon as she starts. “That’s my beautiful girl, let him see you.” Her moans turn to whimpers, Luke rolling her through one orgasm and into another, her body slippery and hot on the chill glass, her eyes locked on the man below. She feels powerful, and loving, and loved, she feels beautiful and cherished, and she hopes Luke feels that way too.

She thinks that his thrust will be the first of many more, that he’ll speed up, pin her further, cum with her, share himself just like he said, but instead he stops, releasing her.

Pride bursts warm and large inside him, adoring eyes stair down at her; Penelope, his, freely, openly, undeniably. That he can do that to her, for her, that she trusts in him, even like this.

Penelope sucks down steadying breath as Luke pulls out and turns her to face him, taking her lips on his, taking her body gently to his, the heat of his chest warming her glass-chilled breasts, his hands running in loving strokes from arm to waist to hip.

He lowers himself in front of her, sucking a wet path down her breastbone and over her stomach, collecting a thigh and kissing it too, her hands automatically landing on his shoulders. His hands drift lower over calf and ankle removing first one heel, and then the other, Luke, looking up at Penelope, sliding fingers up to hook in the band of her underwear and dragging them down her thighs, slingshotting them across the room. He buries his face in her tangy wetness, nose nuzzling, and long, rough tongue lapping up her juices, Penelope moans quiet and low, a hand resting on his shoulder finding a new place in his hair. He licks and sucks, fingertips brushing the backs of her legs before he gradually rises up again. Kissing her deeply, hooking a leg around himself, lifting her up, impulsively walking them to the desk, placing her on the surface. Luke pulls back, then surges forward kissing her quickly, forehead rocking gently against hers and pulls away again, her legs dropping from around him.

“Is office furniture on our list of approved play equipment?”

Penelope chances a glance to the side, Luke following her gaze, the man now sitting on a bench, head still tilted up. They can see by the angle of his arms that his hands are on his lap, what he’s doing, they can only assume. Luke’s eyes trace the side of her face trying to gage her feeling, “Should we give Tom there another show…or do you want to make this a private event?” he presses a warm kiss to her cheek, waiting.

Penelope turns back to him, arms draping loosely over his shoulders, nails teasing neck, teasing him “Do you know how often I thought about this? About you? And me. My office? Every time you came in there. Every time we were alone…Plus, your dutiful servant hasn’t brought you to finish yet…” She smiles at him deviously, curling her legs around the backs of his to bring him closer, leaning back to drag him down with her, “and you said you wanted everyone to see…how did you put it? That pretty face is just for me.”

Laying her head back, fingertips brushing his jaw and cheek, she parodies, “Oohh, SSA Alvez, what is it now? Do you have files for me? Do you want information? Well, what do you want? -Oh, me? Did you want me like this?” she poses, “Or maybe like this?” she coos, posing again. “Agent that’s such a big file, I don’t think I can manage it-”

Luke’s eyes narrow smirking at the cheesy lines, but there’s a growl that tears at his throat. He’d be lying if he said some of his dreams pre-relationship hadn’t gone exactly like that. Luke’s voice dips, warm and dark, his head dipping with it to her ear, “Penelope Garcia, I already told you, I want you every way you’ll let me.”

She surges up kissing him, loving and adamant. Luke’s cock, hot steal between them, and still slick with her, glides over her wet cunt. Both sigh into the feeling when he pushes himself back in, this time though, his movements aren’t patient or soft. Immediately his hips pull and snap, sharply building up a rhythm with intensity. Her hands skate down his back, thumbs sweeping around to affectionately brush his hipbones and continue their way down to honor firm, round cheeks, hardening and hollowing with each clenching thrust, her hands welcoming him to her, nails digging into the meat of his ass in a relentless back and forth until it’s too much to hold on, letting go to brace above her head instead, gripping at the ledge of the desk, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip with each delicious forceful jolt, distorted keening squeals dampened. Luke arcs over her, inhaling at her chest drawn up and together, licking away the sweat beading there, sucking at and smothering himself in the full mounds of flesh that bounce with each punishing thrust. His movements come fast, rough, hips slapping and pitching, her thighs falling open, legs wrapping around his back, heels brushing and locking, stance widening to receive him deeper. He snarls his exertion, breath hot on her neck, his hands tug at hers, freeing her fingers from their hold on the wood, threading them with his as their hands slam back down to the desk above her, Luke bottoming out with every ram, arms locked, hips snapping.

“Ah- Luke!” Penelope is forced into a crunch, forehead lightly pressing into his chest as she curls into him, lips brushing his sternum, mouth opening in a small silent scream, her body shuddering. He can feel her come, slick walls constricting in strong clenching gasps around his cock, nails biting into the backs of his hands, he continues to thrust into her, fast, unyielding, every hit punctuated by more “aht- aht- ahs-” small yelps and sounds of pleasured pain as she falls back to the desk surface. She’s huffing and gulping, his pubic bone slamming hard against her overstimulated clit, her skin pulling sharply against the lacquered wood, then his hands release hers grasping her hips and hold her to the ledge, desk digging sharply into her ass, position changed. He pitches and pummels faster and faster, hips thrusting and pushing, pumping, slamming against her, into her, pound after pound after pound after pound higher and higher in a rush of sucked breath and lightheadedness, she hears him getting higher, his moans and groans reaching a sopranoing timber, feels him harden and stiffen and swell inside her, feels him drawing up before he comes, gripping his jaw, jerking his head to face the window, she reminds him through broken breath, “Look, show him…that I did this- that you’re cuming for me, that I’m-”

Luke sees his reflection pulling out and plunging into her again and again, his cock glistening with her honey, her legs still trembling around him, Penelope fine and laid out like a treat just for him on this desk, just his. With effort he tears his eyes from them, forcing his vision to go past, and lock on the man, now arching back on the bench, with all that’s left in him Luke increases to a brutal pace, Penelope still tight and hot around him, his toes curl and his feet rise and his calves cramp and his body jolts and arches with the man, his fingers harden, he jerks, freezing, and bellows, coming violently, and then every muscle contracts and kicks him forward over and over and over and over in short tight bursts and all she can do is cling to the desk edge as he strains and moans curving above her.

“yours!” She almost loses the rest of the thought as she cries. Her voice goes out, head twisting to the side, face twisting up, her muscles contracting harshly around his cock, coming again at his final thrust, his slackening jaw and glazed eyes.

Luke releases a breath collapsing onto her breast, her legs fall and his arms immediately scoop up and under her, holding her close, sticky and hot, each regaining their breath, their footing.

They lay like that until their heartbeats have slowed to a regular cadence, until euphoria transitions to drowse, until his legs start to tingle and their vision blurs and the sweat trapped between her back and the wood feels gross and swampy. Penelope tilts her head up, planting a kiss to the crown of his head and combs her fingers through his hair, “So birthday boy, was it good?”

“Mhm,” he agrees, nuzzling his cheek where it rests on her soft chest, then adds, without thinking, “I was starting to think you’d forgotten…”

Wriggling out from under him, pushing him up in a burst of energy, Penelope pitches, “Luke Alvez, I would never!”

Luke stood looking down at her, he can’t contain the dazed smile that pulls at her reaction, that she’s more upset about it than he is, and takes her hands in his tugging her up to join him. “I know, that’s why it was so weird…”

“Well. I wouldn’t. It was a surprise!” She pouts, hurt that he would really think she’d forgotten about him.

“I know.” he says dipping his head to look deeper into her eyes. His hand frames her jaw and his thumb brushes high up on her cheek, his other hand snaking around her waist to draw her with him as he walks backwards toward the bedroom. “Maybe next year, just in case, you tell me happy birthday in the morning…”

Penelope’s eyes crinkle and a mischievous grin replaces her frown, “Oh? You think this is lasting that long huh?”

Luke laughs, stumbling over a discarded heel, “Ice cold! What happened to worshiping at my throne?”

“It’s past midnight- not your birthday anymore, Alvez.”

Luke pulls her closer, bending over her, pulling her up on her tip toes to kiss her as his legs hit the edge of the bed and he falls backward, taking her with him. “Weeell, in that case, I guess it’s back to being my turn.”

#garvez #criminal minds #fan fic #luke alvez #penelope garcia #birthday smut fic #ao3 #snails tales

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