Tallian (_tallian_) wrote,

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They Call the Wind - Dexter fanfic

Title: They Call the Wind
Author: _tallian_
Fandom: Dexter
Pairing: Deb/LaGuerta
Rating NC-17 femslash
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, nor do I make any money from them. This is purely for fun.

Thanks to db for insight and handholding.


Deb pushed back from her miniscule desk and rubbed her face vigorously, heedless of the damage is was probably doing to her make-up. It was too late for anyone she knew to be around to see, anyway.

She'd been here for ten fucking hours already today, and all she'd done was man a desk, taking witness interviews and filling out electronic reams of paperwork. Jesus Christ, you'd think she'd had her legs chopped off by the Ice Truck Killer (she would not think of him as Rudy, she would not), not just spent a crappy night with him. And lots of nightmares to follow, but only Dex knew about them.

With a sniff and an unladylike swipe at her nose, she rolled her chair back to the damn computer. Just a few more screens of goddamn data entry, and there wouldn't be any more crap to fill out, they'd have to put her back on cases.

"Just keep sayin' that to yourself, Morgan," she muttered, "Maybe it'll be true."

Knuckled rapped softly on glass. Deb nearly levitated out of her chair, hand immediately reaching for her piece at her hip. Turning, she saw LaGuerta standing in the far doorway of what had once been her office, her hands raised as if to ward off an attack. Her dark eyes were wide.

"Morgan! I was trying not to startle you."

Deb crossed her arms tightly across her chest to hide their shaking. "Fuckin' A, LaGuerta! Make some noise next time, Jesus!" Her voice sounded shrill even in her own ears. She laughed, high and nervous, and flopped back into her chair. It groaned and cracked in protest.

LaGuerta didn't reply, just padded warily across the office to settle herself on the edge of Deb's desk, dislodging a few papers and an empty Starbucks cup to the floor. Deb thought abortively about picking them up, but decided almost immediately that her hands weren't steady enough yet. She leaned back instead to glare at her intruder.

LaGuerta glanced at her laptop, still showing the latest witness report. "Still filling out paperwork, Morgan?" she asked, her voice low and soothing.

Great, she's talking to me like I'm a scared freakin' dog, now. Deb cleared her throat. "Yep." Chew on that, you nosy bitch.

LaGuerta raised one carefully manicured eyebrow, her lip curling in a small smile. She uncrossed her legs and hopped down from Deb's desk to lean over and pick up the fallen papers, giving Deb an unobscured view of her generous cleavage. Realizing she was staring she glanced away, but not before LaGuerta had seen her looking.

Shit. Deb swallowed hard. Relax, probably every pair of eyes in Miami have looked down that shirt, it's not like she was expecting privacy.

Again, oddly, LaGuerta didn't mention it, didn't follow up on her advantage. She laid the papers back on Deb's desk, dropped the empty coffee cup into the trash. Walked around behind Deb to lean over her shoulder, eyes scanning the half-completed form on the screen. Deb felt the corner of one eye begin to twitch - she'd been through this situation enough in the past few days, she knew what was coming next - the "offer to help". Jesus, it was like everyone in this damn office from Batista to Matsuka had gotten the same memo. "RE: How to Handle Officer Debra Morgan".

LaGuerta surprised her again. "Maybe you saw me coming out of the lieutenant's office," she said matter-of-factly. Deb turned to look at her profile, gears clicking in her head. Where was this going -

Shifting minutely closer, LaGuerta sighed, her scent tinged with soft velvety musk and cigarette smoke.

She murmured in Deb's ear, "We've both lost a thing or two, since you were here last."

Deb jerked back, suddenly furious. "What, are you comparing losing your fucking office to me finding out my boyfriend is a serial killer? That's fucking great, LaGuerta, you a fucking therapist now?" She was breathing hot now, fingers digging deep into her own biceps. Bitch. Bitch.

LaGuerta went still. "No, of course not, Morgan. That would make me a complete ass." Her voice was quiet, measured. "I just think that I have a better chance of understanding what you have to say than the rest of this office." She paused again, then Deb felt the electric shock of her cool hand on the bare skin at the nape of her neck. Be-ringed fingers traced up the bumps of her spine to rest fingertips at the base of her skull.

Deb felt frozen in place, tingling. Holy shit, was LaGuerta coming on to her? Deb turned to face her, felt those fingers slide through her hair to trace the sharp edge of her jawline. It felt like live electric wires laid gently on her skin. Deb forced out a nervous chuckle.

"Jeez, LaGuerta, I don't really bat for that team ..." Fuck, this is so weird ...

LaGuerta's face was really, really close. Her lips parted. "Deb," she whispered, "Don't knock it 'til you try it." She leaned even further forward.

Oh fuck oh shit she's gonna kiss me -

Their lips met tentatively at first, but when Deb gasped involuntarily and reached out to pull her closer, LaGuerta melted.

Deb's mind flailed about while her body responded to the kiss like a drowning swimmer. Those small mouth and hands, smooth cheeks and chin - completely different and so completely fascinating. Deb found herself pulling LaGuerta into her lap, and broke the kiss, panting.

"Holy shit, LaGuerta," she wavered.

LaGuerta laughed quietly against her neck. "Maybe you should call me Maria, sweetheart."

Deb started to laugh breathlessly.

LaGuerta - Maria - backed away an inch, her breath still heating Deb's neck. "Do you want to stop?"

Deb took in a shallow, hitching sob of a breath. "No -"

Maria hitched up her skirt and straddled Deb's left thigh, moving slowly and deliberately, giving Deb every opportunity to push her away. Deb reached out to pull her even closer, marveling at her small waist.

Maria's deft fingers unzipped Deb's pants, slid in past the band of her underwear, past the thick thatch of hair, all the way to her swollen, wet clit. Deb jumped involuntarily, and Maria stopped at once.

"Don't even," growled Deb. She lunged forward, pushing Maria back on the cluttered desk behind her. Papers and office toys went flying to the floor. Maria made a surprised, anticipatory purr and pulled Deb in tight for another electric kiss, using the motion to settle her hand more comfortably against Deb's skin.

Moaning against her lips, Deb shoved Maria's skirt the rest of the way to her waist and ripped away the silky thong to leave Maria bare. She hummed in delicious approval, and Deb slid inexpert fingers over skin waxed smooth to dip into slick folds. Maria bucked gently against her, positioning Deb's fingers until they found the right spot. Maria started rocking against her hand, muttering in slurred, sussurant Spanish.

Holy fuck, she's gonna come -

The thought threw Deb into fractured fireworks, her body arching, curses falling from her lips. Dimly, she was aware of Maria's sharp fingernails digging into her back as she rode out her own orgasm.

They slowed together, little aftershocks shuddering through them. Deb suddenly realized she was weeping, working into a full-blown hysterical crying fit. Maria pulled her close and let her cry, rubbing her back. It was like the encounter had broken some sort of dam, letting the wave of fear and humiliation pour out of her, washing up against Maria's acceptance. After what seemed like forever, the tide ebbed back into hiccuping sniffles.

Deb pulled back, suddenly shy. Laughing through the remaining tears she looked up at Maria through her wet lashes.

The discomfort she expected wasn't there, just concern and affection. When Deb dodged her eyes away, uncomfortable with the new intimacy she saw on Maria's face, the lieutenant pushed off of Deb's desk and rearranged her skirt. Deb scrambled to do likewise, zipping up her pants and tucking her shirt back in. She looked up at a touch to her shoulder to see Maria holding the remains of her torn underwear, an inviting smile on her lips.

"I tend to work late these days," she said nonchalantly, and tucked the scrap of silk into Deb's pants pocket.

"Maybe I'll see you again one of these nights."

Concrit is welcome.
Tags: dexter, fanfic

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