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shipthelambs · 9 days ago

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❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

A Lonely Lifetime

Jackson Lamb x Catherine Standish

8.1k words

18+ smuuuuuut

It’s funny what memories just a single song can trigger… for Jackson Lamb, however, it opens up a whole can of worms of regrets, denials, desires, and self-loathing… from the heights of passion filled moments to the lows of the deepest regrets. It kind of has the vibe of ‘Krapp’s Last Tape’, which genuinely was unintentional – but if the shoe fits!

I hope you enjoy it as much as I was nervous about posting it! 🥲

The bang from the door closing rattled the walls of his office, causing him to lose focus on staring at the hole in his sock as a stack of what sounded like plastic landed on the floor.

“I know you like to emphasise that I’m the last one in the building, but, fuck me, at least leave a building to come back to,” he shook his head, removing his feet from his desk before standing up and walking over to the pile of things that had tumbled off the shelf from the slam of the door, “fucking Christ.”

His eyes flickered down to one of the items in his hand, a CD case, and paused for a moment. He put the other items back on the shelf and placed the CD on the top, though his fingertips remained lingering on top of the case. He paused for a few moments before lifting it again and pursing his lips as he read the text on the front of it, his lips now thinning as he tried to prevent his mind from wandering.

In a split second decision, he grasped the CD case firmly and walked over to place it on his desk before looking around his office with his hands on his hips. His eyes narrowed and he parted his lips to say, “Standish, where do we keep—” before realising that, firstly, she wasn't even here, and, secondly, if she knew he still had this, he would not hear the end of her teasing. It would be like she had one up on him for the rest of his life.

“There must be…” he rifled through a couple of the deeper drawers in his desk, “somewhere…” his hand movements were becoming a little more frantic from not being able to find what he wanted. He stood up and let out a wheezy cough, getting out of breath from the mere movement of being bent over.

“Where the f…” he mumbled to himself as he stood up straight and eyes scanned the room until he found what he was looking for in the corner of the room, immediately walking over to it and bending down to pick it up, “fucking bingo.”

He plugged it into the socket and switched it on at the wall, eyes glancing over to his desk to make sure it was working. He made his way back over to his chair and sat down with a small groan, picking up the CD case in his hand and contemplating it for a little while before opening it and placing it in the now working CD player that was upon his desk. He inhaled deeply before blowing the dust off the buttons and hovering his finger over the ‘play/pause’ button. His finger hovered to press it but suddenly pulled back, lifting the case with his free hand again and eyes scanning the track listing before quickly pressing the ‘skip’ button until he got to it.

“Disc one… track…” he glanced down at the case one final time through his smeared glasses, “16.”

He pulled a cigarette out of the packet with his teeth and allowed it to hang between his lips as he fished in his shirt pocket for his lighter before bringing it to his lips and lighting the end of it. He brought one hand up to hold the cigarette between his fingers and hovered the other over the play button, taking a long drag from the cigarette before pressing play as he exhaled the smoke.

“Who knows how long I've loved you, you know I love you still…” his eyes fell shut as the lyrics flowed into his ears, lip twitching and immediately bringing the cigarette back to them to try and calm it as the song continued to play, “but it never really mattered, I will always feel the same.”

Listening to the song was like unlocking a memory in his brain — one he knew would have never stayed buried for long:

He was still sat at a desk, but this desk was much cleaner, much more organised. His head remained tilted back against the top of his chair and his eyes were closed, only this time when they opened, he was greeted with a silhouette so pleasing on the eye that he even made the effort to lean forward and take in the full view. His eyes walked all over the image before him and he tilted his head, widening his eyes slightly when the gun she was wheeling around her finger came into focus.

“Did I doze off and wake up in the Wild fucking West?” he half laughed, eyes still glued to her as she remained completely still in the doorway albeit for the gun she was holding in one hand and slowly, almost seductively caressing with her other hand, “What the fuck are you doing with my gun, Standish?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, his eyes flickering between the gun and her face.

She shrugged, running her index finger along the underside of the gun whilst keeping direct eye contact with him, “Admiring it.”

“Why don't you come and admire it a bit closer?” Jackson’s eyes flickered with playfulness.

Catherine pressed her lips together to try and hide the smirk that was threatening them and massaged her fingertip in circular motions over the end of the gun, resulting in Jackson’s mouth falling open as he watched closely. He was in a trance, watching her finger go back and forth whilst absentmindedly licking his bottom lip. Just as he was about to speak, he felt his breath catch in the back of his throat as he watched her lower the gun and tuck it into the waistband of her skirt before advancing from the doorway and further into his office, placing her index finger over her lips as she heard the door close behind her.

Jackson’s eyes were wide, hands trembling slightly as he pushed his chair a little further out from the desk as Catherine walked around the side of it. He trailed his gaze from the gun still held in her waistband all the way up until their eyes met, his arm bent on the chair arm and biting the tip of his thumb, staying silent.

“Did you know that biting your thumb back in Shakespearean text meant that you were showing disrespect or defiance?” Catherine asked as she now stood in front of him, taking the space between the desk and his chair as an open invitation, “It’s basically like challenging someone to a fight.”

“Oh, I'm not gonna challenge the woman who’s got my fucking gun stuffed down their skirt,” Jackson finally spoke, lips dry as he watched her sit down on his lap.

“No? Good,” Catherine smiled sweetly, placing her hands against his shoulders and leaning in to him. Jackson pursed his lips, but only felt air against them as Catherine turned her head to whisper directly into his ear, “Question is, Mr Lamb, which one of us is going to shoot first?”

Jackson let out a low groan from the back of his throat. The shiver her whisper caused in his ear travelled straight down to his cock.

“You are gonna be the fucking death of me, Catherine Standish.” he spoke as she lifted her head to look at him again, her expression nothing but innocence.

“Not in the next five to ten minutes, I hope,” she teased, biting her lip as she looked down at him.

“Don’t be fucking cheeky,” he responded, kissing her harshly as if in some form of punishment.

Catherine’s hands soon moved from his shoulders to the sides of his neck, lightly digging her nails into his skin as one of Jackson’s large hands placed itself on the back of her head. Their lips crashed together even harder this time, as if giving each other desperate mouth-to-mouth. Jackson held her head in place with his large hands and Catherine’s nails continued to soothingly scratch up and down his neck, enjoying the noises he made as a result. Their heads tilted either way and the kiss grew deeper, Catherine now lightly pulling at his hair and nudging herself forward so the gun tucked under her waistband lightly prodded against him.

“Feel free to take it out.” she smirked against his lips, teasing the tip of her tongue between them.

“Are you just trying to get me to put my hands down your skirt?” Jackson tutted playfully in response, his hands now on her hips.

“I don't usually have to ask.” Catherine whispered, nudging their noses together.

Jackson’s fingertips lightly pressed into her skin before making the split decision to stand up and lift her onto his desk, lips smacking back together. Catherine gasped playfully against his lips and removed his gun from her waistband to prevent it from digging into her stomach as she leaned up to kiss him back each time. She reached her hands up to tangle them in his hair and grinned when she heard the jingle of him unbuckling his belt and a frustrated grunt followed by, “Fucking thing…” as he popped open the button and grasped the zip between his finger and thumb.

“Come down here…” Catherine purred against his lips, reaching to loosen his tie and tugging it lightly as he placed his hands against her knees, pushing them apart as he leaned over her.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Jackson asked, his hands sliding under her skirt now.

“Hmmm?” Catherine mumbled against his lips, half dazed from the feeling of his fingers sweeping against her inner thighs.

“Take them off for me, Standish.” he spoke in a smooth but borderline demanding tone.

“Take…” she waited for his hand to move further before giggling flirtatiously against his lips, “what off?”

“Fuck me, Standish,” Jackson fumbled with his trousers in a more distressed state this time, feeling his temperature prickle throughout his body when he realised she wasn't wearing any, “you don't waste any fucking time, do you?”

“Always ready for you, Agent Lamb.” she bit down on his bottom lip, pulling it out slightly as she hooked her legs around his waist.

Jackson had to forcefully shake himself out of the memory, widening his eyes as he stared blankly into the room. The ash from his cigarette had dropped continuously into his lap from him holding it absentmindedly in his hand as the song played and he’d revisited one of his memories that it had brought back. He stubbed the cigarette out and pressed the rewind button on the CD player for the song to start again, using his other hand to brush off the ash that had landed in his lap.

“Oh?” he spoke in a slightly surprised, humoured tone, “well, shit.” he ran his fingers over the bulge now protruding from the crotch of his trousers as a result of the flashback, just to make sure it really was there, “that’s not happened for a while.”

He glanced around the room nervously, almost as if he was paranoid he was being watched, and rested his palm over his problem, swallowing hard. His lip twitched and he cleared his throat, contemplating what to do about it. It had been that long since the last time he had done anything about it, he wasn’t even sure it was worth the result. In fact, it had been so long, he had almost convinced himself he would just ejaculate dust.

“Make it easy to be near you,” the song repeated itself for the second time, making Jackson let out a half hearted laugh.

“It will never be easy to be near you, Standish…” he let out an exasperated sigh into the empty office, shaking his head and lighting another cigarette as he continued to talk to himself, “especially not now,” he took a drag from the cigarette, exhaling it as he spoke, “Christ, what is this fucking power you hold over me, Standish? Not even here and you're giving me a fucking stalk-on.”

He pressed rewind on the song again like it was second nature at this point and hung his head back against the chair, cigarette hanging between his lips and closing his eyes as the lyrics fed another memory into his head:

“Love you forever, and forever,” he sang along to the song playing, his lips against her ear and arms wrapped around her from behind, “love you with all my heart,” he kissed her ear, grinning from her reaction.

Catherine leaned back against his chest and sighed softly, placing her hands over his that were against her lower stomach. Jackson tickled his lips down the side of her neck and held her against him, moving side to side slightly in time with the song, an act he would never do in front of anyone else. His teeth lightly nibbled the crook of her neck and she moaned softly, tilting her head to the side and allowing her eyes to fall shut.

“Jackson…” she whimpered, her hands now trembling over his, “mmh, Jackson…”

“Yes, love?” his lips lingered against the corner of her jaw now.

“You know,” she turned herself around, placing her hands upon his chest, “you really can't sing.” she tried not to laugh.

“Oh, now that's not very fucking nice, is it?” Jackson squinted his eyes playfully in offence.

Catherine shrugged, grinning.

“I’ll have you know,” Jackson placed his hands on the small of her back, drawing her in to him, “I’m telling you,” he leaned down, pressing their lips together as Catherine fumbled with the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning a few of the buttons as they kissed, “I just might be the second coming of McCartney!”

Catherine gasped and giggled, dancing upon her tip toes to kiss him properly as they stumbled around the room. Jackson carefully walked her backwards until her back touched the wall, his hands now settled upon her waist.

“Mm, really?” Catherine arched a brow, unbuttoning his shirt a little more, “because I've never known you as the second coming… of anything.” she grinned, biting down on his bottom lip.

“Oh, now, that,” Jackson’s eyes opened, breaking the kiss as he glared down at her, “was fucking…” he took hold of both of her wrists and pinned them above her head against the wall, his expression not changing, “uncalled for.”

Catherine felt her breath hitch in her throat from the combination of her wrists being pinned to the wall and the look on his face; it was dark and furious, and so arousing.

“Maybe you should rethink your self control,” she dared to say, looking up at him with a playful smirk.

Jackson’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “Maybe you should watch your fucking mouth,” he leaned down to press his lips to hers harshly but pulled back before she had a chance to kiss him back, “and remember who the fuck you’re talking to, sweetheart.”

“Remind me?” she narrowed her eyebrows, attempting an innocent expression as their faces remained close.

Jackson tightened his grip on her wrists and brushed their lips together, kissing her teasingly slowly before trailing his lips toward the side of her neck and starting to suck on it slowly. Catherine’s heavy eyes closed and she tilted her head to the side, wanting nothing more than to tangle his hair between her fingers whilst his lips continued to work their magic against her sensitive skin, the scruff on his cheek brushing against her jaw each time his head moved.

“Mmmh, mmm, I don't see how this is punishment for speaking out of turn…” she spoke in a lazy tone, allowing her mouth to remain open as his lips swept against the crook of her neck.

“Because I have self control,” Jackson whispered into her ear, “but, do you?”

He knew how much she loved his lips against her neck; she has stated and proved several times how they turned her legs to jelly. She said it was something to do with the mixture of the softness of his lips alongside the soothing scratch of his stubble against her skin. Regardless of where they would be, all it would take was a peck on the side of her neck, back of her neck, and in some cases her throat, and she would be all his in a heartbeat. Desperate for him.

Catherine pressed her lips together hard to try and hold back the noise her throat was threatening to make and squirmed involuntarily as Jackson lightly grazed his teeth over the side of her neck. He tightened his grip against her wrists and smirked, latching his lips onto her skin now to make sure he left his mark.

“J…Ja…” Catherine whimpered, gasping softly when she felt him pull back and blow cold air against the red, raised mark on her neck, “Jackson, please…” she attempted to nudge her hips forward, her eyebrows narrowing.

“Excuse me?” Jackson instantly pulled back and gazed down into her eyes, shaking his head as the corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk, “I don’t fucking think so.”

Catherine tried to move again but widened her eyes when she noticed him moving one of his legs forward, parting hers a little more with his knee and slotting it between her legs to stop her moving forward. Jackson tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, “what are you going to do now, hm?”

“You’re saying that like your new position isn't just emphasising how desperate you are…” she tried to keep her composure, her eyes flicking down to the stretched material of his trousers.

“You’ve not answered my fucking question.” Jackson’s gaze penetrated hers, his face not breaking.

Catherine paused for a brief moment before licking her lips slowly and repositioned herself the best she could with his leg between hers, his knee bent against the wall. She half expected him to instruct her not to move, but in reality he was actually rather curious as to what she was about to do. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath against her lips, and when she lifted her hips up slightly so he could feel her warmth against his thigh, she could hear him swallow hard.

“This…” she bit her lip.

“Hm?” Jackson scowled, feeling his heartbeat speed up slightly whilst trying to keep a proper grip on her wrists.

“This is what I'm going to do.” she shrugged simply and made sure their eye contact didn't budge as she started brushing back and forth over his thigh, studying his face closely.

It took everything in him to not allow his jaw to hit the floor. He could feel his grip on her pinned wrists becoming sweaty, eyes growing heavy as he watched her speechlessly. Catherine let out a small, soft sigh as she pressed herself down onto his thigh with a little more pressure, and Jackson swore he heard the pulse in his cock thump against its material barrier. Catherine’s lips parted and her eyebrows narrowed, whimpering as her back arched against the wall. Jackson thought he was doing quite well keeping his composure but when she spoke his name breathlessly and hung her head forward, he felt his hands starting to tremble against her wrists and it wasn't long before he let them go completely, instead cupping her face in his hands to lift it back up and desperately pressing their lips back together.

Catherine’s hands immediately darted to his hair and laced it between her fingers, tilting her head in unison with his in order to deepen the kiss. She felt his tongue trace along her bottom lip before tangling it with hers and repeatedly brushing his thumbs back and forth against her cheeks. She pusher her body forward briefly to make contact with his and grinned when she felt him shudder, kissing him harder this time. Much like the damp patch upon his thigh from her, there was no way of Jackson hiding his arousal at this point; it was creating a proud tent-like look toward his inner thigh, and she swore she felt it pulse from their brief body contact.

Catherine made quick work of his belt, quickly unbuckling it as the kiss grew more passionate. Jackson’s trembling hands were now at her waist, squeezing her gently whilst she unfastened his trousers and immediately pushed her hand inside. Jackson hissed against her lips quietly when he felt her wrap her fist around him, pushing the waistband of his underwear down to allow herself more movement with her wrist.

“I don't think you could make me much harder,” Jackson attempted to chuckle to cover up the moans that were threatening his lips, “so, each touch of yours is playing with fire at this point.”

“Mmm…” Catherine grinned, pulling his bottom lip out slightly between her teeth and twisting her wrist as it slid loosely up and down his length, “wouldn't that be embarrassing.”

“More or less embarrassing than trying to fuck my thigh?” Jackson growled against her lips, wanting nothing more than to thrust up into her fist at this point.

“You tell me.” Catherine shrugged, suddenly speeding up her fist and feeling him pulsate in her grip in response.

“Oh, fuck.” Jackson whined, breaking the kiss to let out a suppressed moan.

“Hm?” Catherine bit her lip, tightening her fist a little more.

She watched with heavy eyes as he breathed hard, lips parted and eyes closed.

“Is that nice?” she grinned, pecking at his lips lightly.

“I need you,” Jackson forced himself back to consciousness, hitching her skirt up as he walked her backward through the room until she was pressed against the long window and growling against her lips, “fucking need you, Catherine.”

“Mm, Jackson, wait,” Catherine lost her breath from his words mixed with his movements, “Jackson!” she giggled when he pushed her a little harder against the window, kissing her desperately whilst reaching for her underwear.

“Sorry, love,” he pulled back after tearing her underwear off, “everything alright?”

“The… the curtains are open,” she swallowed hard, grasping onto his shirt as his hips pinned her against it once more, “And its broad daylight out there. Anyone could look up and see.”

“Look up and see what?” Jackson arched a brow, gripping her thigh in his steady hand and hooking it to his waist with a devilish grin.

“This…” Catherine whispered, though willingly squeezing her leg around him, “Us. Up here.”

“Sweetheart, if I can't show the world how you make me feel, then I'm afraid I'm not doing it right,” Jackson whispered closely to her lips, “You’re their fucking loss, I won't make you mine.”

“J-Jackson…” she shivered when she felt him brush between her legs, her hands moving to his shoulder as she attempted to lift her hips for him, “Stop teasing…”

Jackson grinned, reaching down between them with his free hand as their lips pressed back together and thrusting his hips in one, swift motion. Catherine squeezed his shoulders in response and gasped in relief against his lips once he filled her completely, kissing him clumsily with parted lips. Jackson grunted softly as he began to drive his hips back and forth, one hand still clasped onto her bare thigh under her skirt.

“Fuck, Catherine Standish, you drive me up the fucking wall, you do,” he growled, kissing her harshly through heavy breaths.

“Wall?” Catherine sniggered, pausing to let out a soft moan, “you drive me up the fucking window.”

“Ah, clever,” Jackson let out a singular laugh, “I’ll drive you fucking through it if you're not careful.”

“Mm, sounds painful,” she scratched the nape of his neck, nipping at his lips, “what a way to go.”

“At least let me fucking cum first.” Jackson responded lowly, kissing her roughly once more before dipping his lips to her neck like before and letting out a soft noise from the way her body reacted to it.

“So soon?” she teased, “pathetic.”

“Watch your mouth.” Jackson growled, grazing his teeth against her skin.

Jackson was going the right way about making her forget her name, let alone watching anything else that was coming out of her mouth. The harshness of his lips left splodges of red upon her skin and the bristles from the scruff on his cheeks made her body shudder in pleasure. Her leg tightened around him and several moans left her lips, her head now tilted back against the window as his hips continued to plough upward with heavy grunts.

Catherine’s hands laced through his hair repeatedly as she remained pinned against the window at the mercy of his thrusts, continuing to soothingly scratch her nails against the nape of his neck. Jackson’s thighs trembled and he placed his free hand against the window, though struggling to hold himself upright as his sweaty palm slipped down the glass.

“Mm, Jackson, I—” Catherine began to speak, feeling heat rising in her body as her eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Got any johnnys laying around here?” his breathless words cut her off, “I don't fancy your lipstick staining my cock today, if you know what I mean.”

“You…” Catherine narrowed her eyebrows, letting out a high pitched moan when she felt Jackson’s hand between her legs instead, “Ugh, fuck…” she lost her train of thought for a few long moments, “D—Don’t need to…”

“Wait,” Jackson exhaled a heavy breath as he paused his hips momentarily, “You mean you’re…” he could feel himself throbbing with want, hand trembling against her thigh, “We don’t have to worry about…”

“No.” She responded simply, leaning up to peck his lips.

“Well, why didn't you fucking say!?” Jackson responded quickly and reached down with his other hand to lift her off the ground completely and hook both of her legs around his waist.

Catherine gasped and let out a small giggle, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a harsh kiss to his lips, “Surprise?”

“Fuck surprises,” Jackson spoke between kissing her back as he carried her through the room, “This is like Christmas, birthdays… even Easter all at once.”

“Easter?” Catherine laughed against his lips.

“Yeah, because, if it's all the same to you, sweetheart,” he carefully placed her feet back down on the ground in his bedroom, “I believe we've now got no more fucking barriers to prevent us from shagging like rabbits.”

“You have such a way with words, Lamb…” Catherine grinned, unbuttoning his shirt fully and pushing it off his shoulders before grasping onto the opening of his trousers and pushing them past his hips as they continued the heated kiss.

“Well, am I fucking wrong?” He mumbled against her lips.

“No,” Catherine broke the kiss to glance down between them at his angry arousal stood proudly above the waistband of his underwear, “No, you’re not.”

“Like what you see?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, helping her push both his trousers and his underwear to the floor before starting to tug at the zip of her skirt desperately until it joined his clothes on the floor, “What you caused?”

“No comment,” Catherine grinned against his lips, gasping playfully at how skilfully he removed her bra once her blouse was by her feet.

Jackson’s arms wrapped back around her and he walked them both over to her bed as their desperate kisses began again. The feeling of their skin on skin contact sent shivers throughout both of their bodies, hands flying all over one another and not pausing for a moment even when they tumbled onto her unmade bed.

Catherine laid on her back and kept her hands tangled in his hair to ensure that his lips weren't going anywhere but on hers. Jackson teased the tip of his tongue with hers and moaned as his hardened length brushed against her lower stomach and let out a shaky moan when he felt one of her hands soothingly scratch down his back, breaking the kiss briefly. Catherine parted her lips to speak but whined softly instead when she felt the bristle from Jackson’s cheek against her skin as his lips now reached her collarbones, delicately kissing along them and enjoying Catherine’s shaky breathing as a result. Though not exactly giving her what she wanted, their bodies continued to move against one another, Jackson’s arousal making itself known more and more as each moment passed.

“Jackson, please…” Catherine’s weak voice whimpered as Jackson’s lips rubbed faintly against one of her nipples, panting hotly against her, “Jackson…”

“All in good time, my love…” Jackson grinned as he turned his attention to her other breast.

Catherine’s moans and squirming beneath him did nothing to help the angry throbbing of his cock, struggling now to hold back his own moans and movements but wanting more than anything to prove a point; he did have self control.

“J—Jackson, I am beg…” She inhaled sharply when she felt his lips against her throat, kissing the skin softly as he rocked his body against hers, “Begging you…”

“Oh, fuck me, Standish, you’re awfully needy today,” Jackson spoke in a low tone as his lips reached her jaw, and she felt him grin against her skin when she parted her legs a little more in order for him to slot between them perfectly, “Is this what you want, hm?”

“F-Fucking want you…” Her trembling hands found his hair again and she desperately kissed him, “Need…” she inhaled sharply as Jackson finally thrust his hips forward, her hands now gripping onto his bottom, “…you!”

“Now, now…” Jackson halted his hips completely and brushed her hair out of her face, kissing her softly in comparison to the way that she had just kissed him, “what’s the rush?”

His oddly gentle words lingered on her lips unlike anything he had ever said before. She didn't question it, though. She just allowed him to kiss her at the pace of his choice, and with it, his hips moved. Their lips parted and soft noises left them as their bodies moulded into one another over and over, deepening the kiss each time they turned their heads opposite ways. Catherine’s fingers lazily traced up and down his back and her legs lay at either side of his hips, completely at his mercy. Jackson grunted softly with each movement and shivered from the feeling of her fingers trembling down his spine, their tongues dancing together.

Jackson raised his torso slightly and broke the kiss, opening his heavy eyes to gaze down at her beneath him. He felt the heat in his body intensify just from watching her, his lips parting and eyebrows narrowing as he continued to thrust his hips forward. Catherine’s legs hooked around his waist properly, encouraging him to speed up ever so slightly and arching her back when he did.

“Mmmh, Jackson…” her arms fell from his back to her sides before bringing them above her head against the poorly stacked pillows and allowing him free-reign of her body completely.

Jackson could've lost it there and then from the way she was acting beneath him. His thighs tensed and the fire in the pit of his stomach started to flicker. Truth was, however, he didn't want this to end. Fuck, he would forfeit never reaching an orgasm in his life ever again if he got to feel like this forever. He loved to watch her, albeit through barely open eyes, but the knowing that he was causing her to react that way sent a bolt through his veins incomparable to anything he had ever felt in his life.

“Come…” she reached up clumsily for him, “Come back down here…” she whimpered, yearning for his lips to be back against hers.

He loved that, too. The way she would always reach for him. Even though he didn't want to silence the noises she was making, he could never deny her lips against his.

“I’m here, darling,” he cooed against her lips, kissing her slowly but maintaining the same faster pace with his hips, “fuck, Catherine…”

“Ugh, yes…” Catherine whimpered breathlessly, her trembling hands lacing themselves in his hair as she lifted her hips a little to try and meet his, “D-Don’t… s-sto-!” she gasped in pleasure, her eyes rolling back as her new positioning allowed Jackson’s movements to become even slicker.

“Mm, shit,” Jackson narrowed his eyebrows, feeling the flames licking their way up his body and his cock pulsating with each thrust, “Catherine, fuck!” his heart was pounding in his chest, his thighs tensing as his hips almost became robotic to chase his release, “O-Oh, my- fuck!” he pulled back slightly, desperately looking down at her, “A-Are you…”

“Yes!” Catherine cried out, her legs squeezing around him tightly as her back arched against the bed sheets.

“Oh, fucking hell, Catherine!” Jackson exclaimed in pleasure, the feeling of her squeezing around him causing his own climax to soon follow. His jaw tensed and he kissed her harshly just once, the veins in his neck now protruding once he threw his head back to let out several strangled moans.

Unsure of whether it was because he had tried to hold back longer than usual this time or the fact that there were no barriers between them at all — most likely the latter — Jackson’s entire body trembled from head to toe. Each spasm-like thrust prolonged his earth shattering orgasm, feeling himself becoming lightheaded as each throb of his cock pulsated more strings of his release into her, gripping onto the bedsheets at either sides of her head until his knuckles turned bright white.

“Jackson, fuck, Jackson…” Catherine panted, her head digging further into the bed as their bodies continued to writhe against each other, savouring every last moment.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Standish,” Jackson pressed a shaky kiss to her lips before burying his face in the crook of her neck and breathing heavily.

After a few long moments, his movements gradually slowed down and his lips faintly brushed up and down the side of her neck, gladly welcoming her hand soothingly scratching the nape of his neck as they lay there in nothing but satisfied, heavy breathing. Catherine’s chest rising and falling against his and her breasts pressing against his chest were enough to make him crave the blissful feeling all over again, but after that near-death orgasm, he was doubtful he had anything left in him — in more ways than one.

“That cock of yours,” Catherine grinned, still on a blissful high as their bodies remained stuck together with sweat, “You spoil me, Agent Lamb.”

Not helping, he thought to himself, knowing already that he was struggling to get it down. Sure, he would have her again in a heartbeat, but he didn't want to embarrass himself with how, although intensely satisfied, his entire body now felt like it had been put through a marathon. The most rewarding marathon of his life, but he was exhausted. Unless she goes on top… his internal voice spoke again, making him arch a brow in response.

“Jackson?” Catherine whispered into his ear, kissing his temple softly and shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Mm, yes, my sweet?” Jackson spoke lazily as he raised his head from her neck and gazed down at her with heavy eyes, cheeks still flushed.

“Look at you.” She crinkled her nose, her eyes flicking to the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and reaching up with one of her arms to brush it off, his hair now stuck out in several directions.

“What about me?” Jackson squinted his eyes playfully, trying to sound offended.

“I think David might have something to say if you don't sort your hair out.” She raised her eyebrows, trying not to laugh.

“After that spiritual experience, quite frankly, I couldn't give a flying fuck what Cartwright thinks.” Jackson shrugged, rolling off her and staring up at the ceiling as he let out a soft sigh.

“Oh, really?” Catherine rolled onto her side and leaned up on her elbow, gazing down at him, “We’re good, aren't we?”

“Well, I’ve certainly had worse lunch hours.” Jackson yawned, stretching his arms and legs out with a small groan.

“Charming.” Catherine rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply as she sat up, “Speaking of which, I'm going to freshen up.”

“What?” Jackson spoke through a laugh, watching her closely as she stood up, “Wait, Catherine, no, I didn't mean…” he attempted to call her back as she stood up and walked to her bathroom, “Catherine…!” he groaned lazily from the bed with a pathetically outstretched arm, barely able to even lift his head.

“I can't have Charles seeing me turning up back at work looking like I’ve just been dragged through a hedge backwards,” she spoke from the hallway, “What would he think of me?”

Jackson’s fists clenched at either side of him and he gritted his teeth, now glaring at the ceiling like a moody teenager.

“Suit yourself.” he huffed.

He pursed his lips and glanced around the room, looking for his trousers. He threw himself onto his side and reached over the end of the bed with a loud groan, firstly grasping at his underwear — after a few failed attempts — and pulling it on before leaning over again to fish in the pocket of his trousers for his packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Sex and cigarettes for lunch,” he opened the packet as he roughly hoisted himself up the bed, “Now that is what I call a balanced fucking diet.”

He dipped his head forward and pulled two cigarettes out with his teeth, placing the packet on the bedside table and picking up the lighter. His free hand raised and he lit both cigarettes at the same time.

“Ciggy?” he asked against both cigarettes as Catherine walked back into the room fully dressed. Catherine nodded but remained quiet for a few moments, taking the cigarette from him.

“Thank you.” She said after taking a drag.

“Everything alright?” Jackson asked in a slightly hesitant tone. He hated asking that.

Catherine leaned against the doorframe and placed the cigarette between her lips, inhaling and exhaling slowly before speaking, “Did you just make love to me?”

“Make love?” Jackson coughed to try and hide a laugh, though not entirely convincing.

“Yes.” Catherine responded bluntly.

“We just…” Jackson trailed off as he took another drag from his cigarette, “had sex,” he shrugged, exhaling the smoke, “like we always do.”

“How romantic.” Catherine rolled her eyes, walking over to the bedroom window and peaking through the closed blinds in a way to act as if she didn't care about how he brushed her question off.

“Who needs fucking romance when you've got sex and cigarettes?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, reaching over to the clear, unlabelled glass bottle on her bedside table and unscrewing the lid before sniffing it, “And vodka.”

Catherine didn't respond, just continued to peer through the blinds with her back turned to him. Jackson took a swig from the bottle but didn't take his eyes off her, licking his lips as silence filled the room.

“Oh, come and sit down, Catherine, for fuck sake,” Jackson sighed, patting the space next to him, “You’re making me nervous!”

Catherine remained still, albeit for her raising the cigarette to her lips again before she spoke, “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“What, that you drive me up the fucking wall? Because you are doing right now.” He tapped the end of his cigarette into the ashtray on the bedside table.

“When you were singing.” her back remained facing him.

“When I said I was the second coming of McCartney?” Jackson squinted his eyes, pursing his lips.

“For crying out loud, Jackson!” Catherine let out a loud, exasperated sigh, covering her face with her hand.

“What did I say?” Jackson asked in a placid tone, tilting his head to one side.

“Do you love me?” The words left her mouth faster than her brain could stop her.

“Oh, for f…” Jackson inhaled deeply, once again trying to disguise his vulnerability by speaking with a laugh, “What is this, another one of your ‘what are we?’ chats?”

“Do you?” Catherine turned around this time, stepping closer to the bed and swallowing hard.

Jackson took several drags from his cigarette this time and stared down at the bed for a few long moments.

“Jackson?” she pressed him further, “I want to know if I'm wasting my ti—”

“Fucking Christ, alright,” Jackson held the cigarette hanging between his lips and raised both of his hands above his head as he spoke, “you got me.”

Catherine widened her eyes and felt a strange wave wash over her, unsure of if it was relief or shock, and this was emphasised in the way she asked, “You… do?”

To admit something like this was harder than any job Jackson had been given. He wanted to pretend that this was all just a bit of fun between two colleagues, but then he thought about him, Charles, and the thought of his hands being where Jackson’s had been turned something inside him more bitter than bile in the back of this throat.

“I guess I do, yeah,” Jackson sighed as if this revelation was the biggest inconvenience of his life, “Quite fucking annoying, really.”

“Wow, Jackson, I…” she blinked hard, genuinely taken aback.

Jackson felt his heartbeat into his throat, nausea sweeping over him like it always did when he was feeling vulnerable. He finished the last of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray before turning to her and speaking as smoke was still leaving his mouth, “Now, just promise me one thing,” he arched a warning eyebrow, “Don't interfere with my work.”

“You are a piece of work, Jackson Lamb.” Catherine grinned, her finished cigarette joining his in the ashtray before pressing their lips together as Jackson reached out a hand to cup her face.

The memory faded, but his feelings most certainly remained.

“Fucking hell, Standish…” Jackson’s head was enveloped in his hands, elbows bent on the desk as the flashback rang through him and touched every nerve in his body. All too often, the shiver down his spine that these memories created were the only thing that reminded him he was alive.

You could’ve been so happy… he thought to himself, running his fingers through his unwashed hair as the voice of David Cartwright entered his head;

“It’s your personal life or your private life, Lamb,” he could hear him so clearly, “I can’t have you distracted if you see yourself working alongside me. Make your choice ”

“Choices, fucking choices!” Jackson sighed heavily, knowing full well the choice he made that night.

He attempted to close his eyes again but all he could see was her face. The expression she gave him when he told her he was breaking it off — whatever it was. The things she said to him, asked him, almost pleaded with him for them to try and make it work. But his face was like an emotionless brick. It was as if someone had flicked a switch — rather forcefully — in order to turn his feelings off. She cried. That broke him. He told her to get out, only because he couldn't stand what he was doing, and once her back was turned, he cried, too.

He spent a lot of time thinking back on what he had done that night. Sometimes he wasn't even sure why he was crying, and then he would think to seek her company and remember. He would picture her running to Charles and him consoling her, and again, he would remember why, too. The anger would bubble inside him and the self-loathing would start. He used to think that David Cartwright was suggesting him to choose for the greater good. Jackson always told himself that he was putting himself first, but in the long run, he really wasn't. He was putting David first. Or David’s idea of him.

“Emotions, feelings!” Jackson groaned loudly into his hands, “Fucking emotions and feelings!” He stood up swiftly with every single regret surging through him and angrily swept everything off his desk in one frustrated movement. Papers flying everywhere, whisky bottle and glass following soon after. His hands were trembling uncontrollably and his jaw tensed as his teeth gritted, breathing heavily as his heartbeat pounded against his Adam’s apple. He didn't know whether to tear his office apart or cry. He didn't know whether to take advantage of the sudden life in his pants or torture himself with denial for the rest of his days. He sure as hell didn't feel like he deserved to feel anything but guilt and misery, and this was reflected in the way he slumped down onto the sofa with his head buried in his hands, “I fucking hate emotions. This is why they teach us not to have any in the field.”

What he really meant was she, Catherine, was the reason why they taught them not to have any feelings. He sniffed heavily and wiped his damp cheeks with the back of his hands, exhaling loudly as he stared around the messy room; a perfect metaphor for how scattered his brain felt right now.

You could've been so happy… his internal voice taunted him again as he squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers anxiously gripping at the arm of the sofa as a whole new feeling of emotional vulnerability and frustration took over him, If you hadn't fucking listened to the old bastard.

There’s no denying that she would have affected his work, but only in the best way possible. Only in the way that he wouldn't want to stay on the job because he could go home to her instead. Only in the way that he wouldn't be on his best behaviour at the office because he’d much rather be in the store room with her. Only in the way that he would have someone, and they would have him. Truth is, she always had him — it was his selfish decision that made sure that he would never have her, not properly.

How could he tell her that he was jealous of the walls that surrounded her? Jealous of the bedsheets that wrapped themselves around her at night instead of him, jealous of the cool pillow that brushed her cheek when she rolled over in a morning instead of him, how could he tell her that the only reason he didn’t properly fix his tie is because he liked to pretend in his head that she was the one who had loosened it for him like she always used to do whilst they kissed? How could he even begin to explain it? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He would just continue to hide his every thought and feeling behind his sarcastic remarks. Afraid that, if he were to speak truthfully, there was no way she would be interested in a life with him now, and if he were to be brutally honest, he knew he couldn't face her rejection — that would seal it being over for good. He couldn't cope with seeing her every day knowing that his decision all those years ago would lead to her being so close but yet so far from him. He would rather live his life thinking ‘what could have been’ and play with the idea in his head than know she had mentally closed that door years ago.

In a strange, almost toxic way, however, he knew he always needed her around. It killed him inside every day to see the woman he could've shared his life with, but he just couldn't compute without her fussing about him and what he needed to do. There was never going to be anybody else. He never even flirted with the idea of it. It would always be Catherine Standish. She acted like a dagger penetrated directly into his heart, and if she were to be removed, much like the dagger, he would die.

In rare moments where he really thought about what could have been if he had chosen his personal life over his professional life, he often tried to just brush her off as just some lover. But he knew this couldn't be further from the truth. In reality, he knew that she was the only one ever worth feeling vulnerable for.

He tilted his head back and parted his lips to take a deep breath before humming along to the same song that had sparked these memories for him in the first place, “Who knows how long I've loved you? You know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will.”

Thank you so much to anyone who has read this! I really enjoyed writing it but I'm always so nervous about posting things into a fandom for the first time 🥲 as I've said in previous posts, I have a few more ideas in mind (Lamb/Standish and Lamb/Taverner) so if you'll read them... I guess I'll convince myself to write them 🤣 please feel free to send in any requests or let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future ones! 😊

Once again, thank you for reading, hope you all have a lovely day!

(Ps: here’s the song!:)

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