Wine & Whisky 🍷🥃
Jackson Lamb x Diana Taverner
12.2k+ words
18+ smuuuuuuuuuut
Set between season 3 & 4 when Standish has just quit…
One rule: never stand Jackson Lamb up. Especially when you’ve asked him for a meeting on ‘your bench’. Or maybe do stand him up… you just might not be able to feel your legs in the morning 🤭
Basically just a verbal, intimate tennis match back and forth of who’s got the upper hand over the other 🤫 (ps there IS also Jackson/Standish content within it too👀)
This idea and plot was inspired by the absolute insane talent of the below illustration by @loverofartist and creative brain of @b-go who I pester more than I’d like to admit with my plot thoughts 😅 thank you both though!!! 🫶
Her mouth was dry, her eyes barely opened as she woke, and her head was pounding. She made a soft noise as her head briefly lifted off the pillow, squinting as she looked at the time on her alarm clock. Later than she would usually wake up.
Why did her head hurt so much? She knew yesterday certainly didn’t go to plan, but the thing that worried her the most was what she ended up trying to do about it. How she drowned it out, so to speak.
She usually tended to keep to one side of her queen-sized bed, but through her heavy eyes, she noticed that the pillows stacked to the side of her also looked used and dipped in the middle. She shrugged it off and rubbed her hands over her face, coming to the conclusion that she must have tossed and turned a lot after the day she’d had.
She knew staying in bed wasn’t going to solve any of her problems, answer any of her questions, or cure her headache, so she weakly threw the sheets back and got out of it. Why was there a dull ache at the bottom of her back? Reaching for her robe, she stepped into her slippers and opened her bedroom door into the hallway. She yawned and combed her fingers through her hair into somewhat of a style but paused when she could smell the faintest scent of cigarettes the closer she got to the kitchen. Either something was on fire, or she really lost the plot last night and smoked a cigarette.
However, when she turned the corner into her open-plan kitchen and living room area, she very soon came to realise that potentially smoking a cigarette was the least of her worries. Jackson Lamb was snoring away on her sofa.
She jumped slightly and clasped one hand to her mouth and the other over her chest, her instant reaction being to squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head, hoping that this was a cruel trick her hungover brain was trying to play on her. It wasn’t; when she opened her eyes, he was still there. She placed her fingertips on her forehead and stared blankly for a few moments, hoping that some form of explanation would come to mind. It didn’t.
She thought about shouting at him to wake him and get him out of her flat, but she didn’t think that her current headache could bear a conversation with Jackson Lamb. She rested her fingertips over her lips and exhaled slowly through her nose, trying and failing to piece last night back together. She turned to her cupboard and took a glass, running it under the cold tap whilst reaching into another cupboard for some paracetamol. Once she had popped two of them into her hand, she placed one into her mouth and swallowed it with a mouthful of water.
“Why on earth is Jackson Lamb sleeping on my sofa?” She thought aloud, placing the second paracetamol tablet on the back of her tongue before bringing the glass back to her lips.
“Because you wriggle around far too fucking much in your bed.” An irritatingly familiar, sleepy voice came from the sofa she currently had her back to.
She coughed a little in surprise as she swallowed the tablet, turning around and widening her eyes as her glance this time stretched further than just her sofa and instead down at the floor surrounding it — the floor that was scattered in his shoes, tie, and shirt. Oh, fuck.
“M-My what?” Diana scowled, now standing with her hands on her hips as she tried to ignore the awful thoughts surging through her head.
“Your bed,” Jackson yawned, “Must have been one hell of a dream.”
“And how would you know?” She asked, fear hitting the pit of her stomach like ice.
“Oh, come on,” Jackson let out a wheezy laugh as he sat up on the sofa, “Are you playing games with me, Diana?”
“Just…” Diana shuddered at the answer she didn't want to hear, “Tell me.”
“Because I was fucking sleeping next to you,” Jackson reached into his trouser pocket for his packet of cigarettes, “Or I was trying to, at least. You’re like a fucking rotating kebab.” He placed the cigarette in his mouth.
“Don't light that in here.” Was all that Diana responded with.
“I’m sorry?” Jackson’s eyes squinted as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, “Have the rules of this holy establishment changed since last night?”
Diana didn't answer. She continued to stare forward, this time settling her gaze upon the white vest he was wearing — the one usually under his shirt. Her eyes then cast themselves to his trousers when Jackson obeyed her command of not lighting a cigarette and shoving the packet back into his pocket. Her eyes widened when she noticed his trousers weren't even fastened and his belt was hanging open at either side.
“I…” Diana closed her eyes briefly, trying to make sense of it all in her head, “Well, not that I am happy about it in any way, I am very thrilled to know that you weren't sleeping naked on my sofa.”
“Oh, no, no,” Jackson shook his head, “I had to put these back on,” He gestured to his trousers and vest, “It’s fucking freezing in here.”
Diana swallowed hard when she opened her eyes again, immediately catching his eye. She knew all too well that expression he wore upon his face. Sort of smug, but with a hint of seriousness. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, shrugging casually. They remained in silence and Diana pursed her lips, watching as Jackson raised one of his hands to his scraggly, unkept beard. He ran his fingers through it for a few moments before lifting his hand higher and sniffing them.
“What are you doing?” Diana asked in genuine confusion.
Jackson repeated the same sequence as before and then responded simply, “I think there might still be some of you in my beard.”
Diana grimaced, “Oh, please.”
“Mhm,” Jackson nodded with a small smirk as he shifted his gaze to the side whilst thinking back to the apparent moment, “It did go something like that.”
Diana leaned back against the kitchen counter and closed her eyes, tilting her head back briefly. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to ask about it. She didn't even want to try and remember whatever it was that Jackson was insinuating. She had just noticed a couple of her own items of clothing on the floor.
“Is it all getting a bit too much for you, Diana? One night with Jackson Lamb and you've lost your mind!” Jackson sniggered, his eyes studying the thin, silk robe wrapped around her body, “I’ll try and not be offended that you can't even fucking remember it. Dementia at your age? Now, that is depressing.”
“You’re the one that drinks like a fish, how can you remember?” Diana’s eyes finally opened as she snapped, “In fact how can you remember anything when you eventually sober up?!”
“Oh, are we having a row?” Jackson grinned childishly.
Diana glared at him, remaining silent.
“Perhaps I am never sober,” Jackson shrugged simply, “Perhaps that is my secret. You’ll never get a hangover if you never sober up.” He winked.
“Ugh.” Diana grunted quietly, shaking her head in her hands.
“Nice to know you're warming to the idea that you’re still not out of my league, though.” Jackson smiled brightly, only infuriating her further.
Diana exhaled sharply before saying, “Did we… actually….?” Her eyes closed, almost as if, if she wasn't looking at him when he said it, it wasn't true.
“There's a lot of bad decisions made at the bottom of empty wine and whisky bottles, Diana.” Jackson spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, and when Diana’s eyes opened again, she suddenly saw the amount of empty bottles that were scattered about the living room and the kitchen. Her stomach did a summersault at the thought of what he was implying, though, it had always been one of her life’s greatest mysteries as to whether that was a bad thing or a good thing when it came to Jackson Lamb.
The night before:
She better have a good fucking excuse, Jackson thought to himself as he toked on his cigarette. He marched along the canal and exhaled the smoke, making a split decision not to walk in the direction of his own flat, but in the direction of hers.
“Oh, ladi-fucking-da.” He muttered as he walked through the automatic gates and into the lobby after punching in the code like it was second nature.
For a moment, he contemplated the stairs and to use the time to ponder his assumption about the current circumstances, but chose against them and stepped into the lift instead. He half-heartedly laughed to himself when he pressed for the top floor, genuinely flabbergasted that he even considered walking it. He stepped out of the lift once it reached the top floor and began to make his way to the only door on that level; the one to the penthouse.
He licked along his bottom lip slowly and knocked on the door firmly, taking a small step back as he waited for her to answer. After a few moments silence, he heard footsteps coming to the door. He knew she could see him on her cameras, but still persevered with the ‘will she, won't she’ answering of the door. But he also knew, however, that what they were due to meet and talk about on the canal was probably something she wouldn't want on camera. Nor would she want recorded footage of her telling him to get lost when he could also blurt out to the camera why tonight’s meeting was arranged in the first place. She would have to let him in. He heard the door unlock and his lips curled into a grin, standing innocently with his hands behind his back as she opened it.
“Diana Taverner, as I live and breathe,” Jackson inhaled deeply, raising his eyebrows, “Fuck me, is it a a ghost? I thought you were dead.”
Diana glared and stood with her hands on her hips, “What do you want, Lamb?”
“You stood me up.” Jackson’s lips pouted like a schoolboy.
Diana stared at him silently.
“I hope you’re about to offer me an explanation,” Jackson sighed dramatically, “Broke my heart sitting there all on my lonesome.”
“Jackson…” Diana sighed, glaring at him.
“Like a piece of me was missing…” Jackson pretended to sniff.
Diana’s jaw tensed, now looking at the floor in annoyance.
“Jackson, I don’t have time for this.” Diana spoke as their eyes met.
“No, no, evidently not,” Jackson cleared his throat, “That’s why you’re about to invite me in to talk about it.”
“Oh, I am?” Diana scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Well, you surely don’t want to discuss one of your god-awful plans out here on camera, do you?” Jackson arched a brow, stepping past her and into her suite.
“Jackson, I told you I don’t have time for—!”
“Fuck me, you certainly have had time for a drink, though, haven’t you?!” Jackson laughed, looking at the open bottle of wine upon her kitchen counter. He picked it up and squinted his eyes a little as he read the label on it, “Expensive stuff, that, Diana. Were you expecting someone?”
“No.” Diana sighed.
“Drinking alone?” Jackson pursed his lips to hide a smile, “Oh, it has gotten bad, hasn’t it?”
“Jackson…” Diana spoke lowly in a warning tone.
“Are you sure you don’t have David Cartwright tied up in your bedroom, hm?” Jackson narrowed his eyes playfully, looking in the direction of her bedroom and then back at her, “A twat to work with but a freak in the sheets?”
Diana’s expression changed and she turned her head to quickly glance at him before looking back down at her feet as if snapping herself out of her thoughts. She thought that Jackson hadn’t noticed, but he had.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve got the old bastard tied up, Diana,” Jackson hissed through his teeth, continuing to taunt her, “Good target, though. He couldn’t fight his way out of a wet paper bag these days.”
“Jackson, I am warning you…” Diana gritted her teeth.
“Oh, are you?” Jackson laughed, “Then, perhaps tell me why you called me in a fucking hissy-fit and then didn’t fucking show up!”
“I don’t owe you an explanation for anything.” Diana spoke calmly, now lifting her head to look at him again, “Stop being so bloody dramatic.”
“M-Me?!” Jackson scoffed, shaking his head in amazement, “Me being dramatic?! Coming from the lady who seems to be having a fucking party for one!?” He gestured at the wine and almost empty glass at the side of it.
“Oh, it’s been a long fucking day, Jackson!” Diana raised her voice, “Am I not allowed to have a drink!? You’re acting like this isn’t your main hobby. At least I have the decency to wait until I get home from work!”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Diana, what the fuck is going on?!” Jackson snapped, sighing heavily.
“Will you keep your voice down!?” Diana widened her eyes.
“Oh, fuck, you really have got someone else here, haven’t you?” Jackson muttered under his breath.
“No. Do not be absurd, Jackson,” Diana rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass and finishing what was left in it, “Just shut up.”
Jackson pressed his lips together, watching as Diana pinched the bridge of her nose between her finger and thumb and closed her eyes. He sighed quietly and rolled his eyes, shaking his head whilst taking the opportunity to turn to the wine and grab himself a wine glass from the cupboard. Diana’s eyes opened when she heard him unscrew the bottle lid and start to pour it into his own glass.
“Oh, yes, just force yourself into my home and drink my wine, Jackson, don’t worry about asking for permission.” She spoke sarcastically, folding her arms over her chest.
“You called me, Diana,” Jackson spoke as the wine poured, “And, as a good colleague, when you didn’t turn up on our lovely little bench, I had to come and make sure you hadn’t been fucking murdered,” he continued to talk in a very blasé tone, “And, besides, I’m filling your glass up, too.” He pushed the glass in her direction across the counter, “Sounds like you fucking need it.”
“Ha.” Diana gave him an unimpressed look, her arms still crossed.
“Fuck me, that’s strong.” Jackson coughed into his fist after taking a gulp from his own.
“I’m surprised you have any tastebuds left after all that whisky,” Diana mumbled, “You drink it like water.”
“Tonight’s not about my drinking habits, Diana,” Jackson took another drink, “It’s about yours.”
“I don’t have any drinking habits.” Diana shot back at him.
“The open bottle of wine would fucking state otherwise.” Jackson laughed.
“The wine you’re now trying to make me drink?” Diana raised her eyebrows, looking down at the glass and then back at him.
“Oh, fuck me…” Jackson huffed, pushing it closer to her before walking over to her sofa and sitting down on it, “Drink it or not, just tell me what’s fucking going on.”
“No,” she pushed the wine glass back, staring down at it.
“‘Fuck you mean, ‘no’?” Jackson half scoffed, half laughed, “You wanna try telling that to half the fucking bottle that’s already fucking missing!”
“Fine,” Diana sighed, taking a sip from her glass but refusing to look in Jackson’s direction.
“Do you mind?” He asked, taking a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulling one out.
“You don't usually ask.” Diana raised her eyebrows.
“Well, I just thought that since you've been so wonderfully accommodating already, I didn't want to ruin the warm welcoming vibe.” Jackson shrugged, lighting the cigarette and taking a drag from it.
“Ugh.” Diana shook her head once the smell of the cigarette wafted under her nostrils.
“Come on,” Jackson spoke as he exhaled the smoke, “Sit the fuck down and tell me what's going on, Diana.” He tried to speak in a barely convincing concerned tone, patting the sofa with his free hand.
Diana’s lips pursed and she begrudgingly sat down, bringing her glass to her lips again. She remained silent and licked her lips as she rested her glass in her lap, unaware — or so he thought — of Jackson’s eyes following her tongue’s every move. It may have been the strength of the wine or the cigarette hanging between his lips, but Jackson’s body language had changed from irritated to oddly calm. His eyes trailed up to hers and he tilted his head.
“Are you gonna speak?”
“It’s going to take more than one bloody bottle of wine…” Diana mumbled, her lips still lingering against her glass.
“Is that right?” Jackson raised his eyebrows, taking another drink from his own.
“Don't act like you don't know where I keep them,” Diana rolled her eyes, “You found the glasses easy enough.”
“No comment,” Jackson cleared his throat, smiling sarcastically, “Say no more.”
Diana watched him as he stood up with the cigarette between his lips, walking over to the refrigerated wine rack and opening the door, starting to scan along the different bottles of wine before pulling one out and unscrewing the lid.
“Glass.” Jackson reached his arm out for Diana to pass her glass to him.
“Oh, just bring it over to the damn table, Lamb.” Diana sighed, pushing both of their glasses together on the table as Jackson walked back over to the sofa. He sat down next to her this time and filled both of the glasses up, the smoke from his cigarette now wafting in her face, “And put that horrible thing out.”
“What, you never said I couldn't smoke!?” Jackson scoffed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.
“I think you’ll find I never said you could, either.” Diana glared, taking the cigarette out of his hand and dropping it in the previous empty wine bottle before picking up her glass.
Jackson watched with a half confused, half slightly intimidated look on his face. He inhaled sharply and watched her bring her glass to her lips again, speaking sarcastically, “You’re fucking welcome, by the way.”
“For what?” Diana watched him from over the rim of her glass, “Making an awful day even worse?”
“No, for being your personal fucking waiter,” Jackson huffed, leaning forward for his glass and widening his eyes slightly when he saw her gulping the wine from her glass, “Fucking Christ, slow down, woman!”
“I don't think you’re in any position to critique anyones drinking.” Diana mumbled, finishing what was left in her glass.
“Have I gone back in time and sat down with Standish?” Jackson laughed in amazement as he watched Diana reach for the bottle again to top her glass up.
Diana’s back stiffened.
“Haven't you noticed the pattern?” She tried to brush off his comment with an insult, “The female company you keep tends to need excess alcohol to numb the senses.”
“Fucking charming,” Jackson scoffed, taking a drink from his glass.
“Quite like the opposite of you.” Diana shrugged, though this time there was a hint of playfulness in her eye and she was quite enjoying his silence, “No witty comeback this time?”
“Just fucking fill it up.” Jackson sighed heavily, holding the glass in her direction whilst mumbling under his breath, “I think we both know how this usually goes.”
Diana’s wine selection had always been music to Jackson’s ears, and within the next couple of hours, empty bottles were strewn across the table and the floor. The liquid was flowing almost as well as the conversation, but Jackson’s eyes found themselves wandering all over her. Though his vision was blurry, what he was wanting was becoming abundantly clear. And he hated it. Diana might have been telling him about her day, but he was far too busy studying the way she drank her wine. His head tilted slightly and he followed her tongue as she licked her lips in between drinking and talking. His mind flickered briefly back to a memory when he watched her purse her lips against the glass, feeling a familiar jolt in his groin as he cleared his throat. Diana continued talking and Jackson pushed his free hand casually into his pocket, clearing his throat before taking another drink from his glass.
“Are you enjoying that wine?” Diana asked in a less sober tone than before, noticing that Jackson was trying to drink out of his already empty glass.
“What, this fancy fucking stuff?” Jackson slurred, reaching for the bottle and pouring what was left of it into his glass, “I think I'd enjoy it a lot fucking more if you were naked.” He spoke lowly against the rim of the bottle as he tipped the last few dregs directly into his mouth before gasping playfully into his hand and speaking in a sarcastic tone, “Whoops, did I just say that out loud?”
Diana thumped his side and sighed heavily, “I think I preferred it when your lips were around the bottle.”
Jackson let out a drunken laugh and handed her the bottle, “This is the last bottle. Try get that last little drop at the bottom, my treat. I swear its fucking in there somewhere.”
Diana narrowed her eyes and enveloped her lips around the top of the bottle, tipping it up completely and closing her eyes. After a few seconds, she pulled it out of her mouth and rested the top of it against her tongue as if waiting for the apparent final drop to land upon it. Jackson swallowed hard and pushed his hand deeper into his pocket, watching intently as she began to lap the top of the bottle with her tongue.
“Fuck me, Diana, you’re gonna have to stop drinking like that,” He shook his head, eyes still fixed on her tongue, “You might end up turning me on.”
“I know, I see your hand in your pocket.” Diana spoke like a disapproving teacher, placing the empty bottle on the floor after a few failed attempts.
“What's that supposed to fucking mean?” Jackson scoffed, removing his hand from his pocket immediately.
“Well, I don't think you were readjusting your keys.” Diana rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh.
“Oh, yeah?” Jackson raised his eyebrows.
“I know how your mind can wander.” Diana clicked her tongue.
“But where would we be if we couldn't dream, Diana?” Jackson pursed his lips, shrugging with a soft sigh.
“There’s a fine line between dreaming and intoxicated desires, Jackson.” Diana took a drink from her glass.
“Oh, ‘intoxicated desires’?” Jackson chuckled, trying to imitate her voice, “Have you started seeing double yet?”
“Christ, I hope not,” Diana shuddered, looking him up and down, “One of you is quite enough, thank you very much.”
“Well, aren't you a fucking ray of sunshine!” Jackson pretended to be offended, “Seems like you need the company these days more than ever.”
“And what could you possibly be implying there?” She squinted her eyes, her expression making Jackson smile so innocently that whatever he was about to say next, it was bound to have a punchline.
“You know what they say,” Jackson inhaled deeply, looking over at her inquisitive stare, “Beautiful girls are the loneliest.”
Diana was immediately stumped by his rare compliment. If it didn't get a rise, drink, or in some cases sex, compliments weren't often something that fell from his lips.
“Wow, Jackson…” She felt her cheeks growing pink, scratching the back of her neck timidly, “I didn't think you were capable of saying something so nice.”
“You didn't let me finish.” Jackson cleared his throat.
“Pardon?” Diana scowled slightly, confused.
“Beautiful girls are the loneliest, that is a known fact,” Jackson shrugged, swirling around the liquid that was left in his glass before drinking it, “But that probably explains why you've got such a big fucking team.”
Diana didn't respond verbally, just pressed her lips into one thin line and exhaled loudly through her nose. Jackson giggled from her reaction and bit his lip, nudging her playfully. Diana didn't budge, fixating her eyes on one particular spot on the floor.
“What's this, has fucking rigormortis set in already?” Jackson taunted her stiff body language, “Death from being shocked Jackson Lamb could potentially give someone a compliment?” He leaned in a little closer, “Give you a compliment?”
“Ugh,” She moved away from him, sliding a little further along the sofa as his scent of alcohol and cigarettes filled the small gap between them, “You’re absolutely filthy.” She grimaced, watching him from the corner of her eye.
Jackson chewed his inner lip as a smirk crept upon his face. His eyes trailed up to hers and his voice lowered, though the same smug expression remained on his face, “Yes, always been your filthy little secret, haven't I, Diana Tavener?”
Diana swallowed hard, blinking quickly as the gap between them became even closer. She could almost taste the wine on his lips now from the way they were both positioned on the sofa and see every unevenly grown facial hair upon his face. Diana’s breathing was heavy — or was she actually just trying to breathe in Jackson Lamb’s natural aroma? For someone who prided themselves on being clean and well presented, it even came as a shock to Jackson to learn that the smell of his whisky and cigarettes were her weakness. Of course, he hadn't always had the lack of hygiene issue, but she couldn't remember a time where he didn't smoke or drink. She found it weirdly arousing that he had his vices; cigarettes, alcohol, and her.
“Oh, my full name?” She finally spoke, feeling herself becoming a little flustered, “That’s how I know I'm in trouble.”
Jackson made a subtle noise in the back of his throat, suddenly feeling the need to stuff his hand back into his pocket again. Both of them alternated glances from each other’s eyes to their lips, uneasy breathing gradually becoming more apparent. Jackson’s heart was pounding in his chest from the sudden change in mood, and Diana’s hands were itching to move from being in her lap. Diana parted her lips but Jackson cut in first;
“Does your bathroom still have that fancy fucking soap that gets all clogged up in the dispenser?” He asked, placing his hand on the arm of the sofa to steady himself as he got to his feet.
Diana took a few long moments to answer, secretly taken aback by how quickly his frame of mind had changed, “Why do you ask?”
“Well, ply me with that volume of wine, Diana, and I'm bound to need to drain the anaconda at some point.” He shrugged casually, turning in the direction of her bathroom.
It wasn't until he stood up that he realised quite how drunk he was. He thought he had done quite a good job of walking in a straight line, though, and remembering where her bathroom was in this large penthouse. It took him several attempts to unfasten his trousers and had to rest a free hand on the wall in front of him, but when he looked down he could've sworn he had two cocks. He looked away and shook his head, feeing himself going slightly dizzy and stumbling a little as he tried to steady himself again.
“Oh, for f…” He grumbled to himself when he noticed the splashes from missing the bowl from when he had looked away, “She is going to fucking kill me…” He turned to the side and pulled off a few sheets of toilet paper, starting to dab around the toilet seat with his crotch still wide open.
Not entirely sure he had done the best job, he shrugged and tossed the tissue into the bowl before flushing it. It was only when he felt a draft around his crotch that he realised his pants still weren't fastened. His vision may have been blurry and slightly doubled, but there was no hiding that he was having a hard time tucking himself back into his underwear. He sighed to himself and tried to grasp at the zip of his pants, eventually getting it over the slight bump in the front of them. He couldn't go back out there immediately, not with this obvious arousal showing.
He walked over to the sink and placed a hand on either side of it, dropping his head forward and exhaling deeply, “What the fuck are you doing?” He asked himself in disbelief.
Why was he hesitating? He had her in the palm of his hand out there. He knew it wasn't exactly hard or unheard of for situations like this to happen between the two of them, but he couldn't remember ever being weary about the next move, even less so if they were drunk.
His head lifted and he stared back at his fuzzy reflection in the mirror.
‘What would Catherine think?’ A voice questioned in his head. Why should he even care? She sealed that deal when she quit. He probably wouldn't ever see her again for her to confront him about tonight, anyway. Besides, he owed her nothing. They weren't even on speaking terms, let alone spending time together. Yet, here he was again, running to Diana’s door to fuck away his feelings. Same as it ever was. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense for when he and Standish had, had a disagreement.
He was tempted to open a window and light a cigarette in the hope that it would calm him down. Or at least take his mind off wanting to see to what was going on in the front of his pants. He would be a liar to say he wasn't insanely attracted to Diana, sure she made him feel young, arousingly intimidated, even, but Standish made him feel. Like really feel. But where was she now? Throwing her toys out of the pram all because he had given her some hard truths about Charles? ’Clearly I was never as good for you as he was.’ He thought to himself, only making himself more wound up, ’Why shouldn't I have a bit of fun when you're spitting your fucking dummy out at the first fucking mention that Charles Partner might not be the big high and mighty that you thought he was?’
His drunken mind was made up, and the thought of Charles Partner was working wonders to make him lose his hard-on. He made his way to the door and stepped back into hallway, steadying himself against the wall for the first few steps — or more like shuffles.
His eyes cast toward her bedroom door and memories of their bodies dripping with sweat flooded his mind. His lip twitched and he continued back toward where they were before, arching a brow with what he was greeted with. It wasn't Diana that he saw first — it was the bottle and the two glasses.
“Whisky and a clean, unsticky glass?” Jackson slurred with a grin from one side of his mouth, “A woman after my own heart.”
“Wrong organ,” Diana winked, handing him a glass.
Jackson felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach from her response and took the glass.
“Mind if I have a ciggy?” He asked, sitting back down on the sofa, “I’m absolutely fucking gasping.”
“Only if I can.” Diana raised her eyebrows, smiling sweetly.
“Oh?” Jackson blinked hard, a little shocked, “Be my guest.” He shrugged, reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling the packet out.
He handed her one and placed another in his mouth, flickering his lighter against it. Diana then took the lighter from him and attempted to light her own, though it would appear it had run out of lighter fluid because the flame was none existent.
“Just light it with the end of mine.” Jackson offered, holding it out.
“I’m sure I have a lighter in here somewhere.” Diana turned down his offer, holding onto several pieces of furniture as she wandered around the room.
“Don't say I never fucking offer you anything.” Jackson spoke as he kicked his shoes off and swung his legs up on the sofa.
He unfastened his tie and slouched down longways on the sofa, bringing the cigarette to his lips, taking a long, hard drag from it and sighing softly as he exhaled the smoke. His eyes closed with his head rested against the arm of it. Diana turned back to face him with the lighter in hand but remained silent for a few moments as her eyes swept over him; his head was tilted back, smoke still leaving his nostrils, eyes closed, cigarette in the arm bent against the back of the sofa and glass of whisky held loosely in his other hand with his arm hanging toward the floor. She hated how much it made her fall for him.
“I’ll just sit on the other sofa, then, shall I?” She asked with a hint of sarcasm and a hint of joking.
“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Diana,” Jackson spoke with his eyes still closed, toking on the cigarette once more, “I think you and I have proven on more than one occasion that this sofa is definitely built for two,” He opened one eye to catch her reaction to his comment before moving his legs a tiny amount and continuing, “Happy now?”
“And who said chivalry was dead?” Diana rolled her eyes, perching on the edge of it as she lit the cigarette.
“Oh, stop your fucking wining, woman,” Jackson sighed, raising his feet pathetically in the air, “Just be thankful I took my shoes off.”
“Mmhm,” Diana looked over her shoulder, grimacing slightly at the sight of his toe through one of the holes in his socks, “I’m not entirely sure that I am thankful for that, actually.”
“And here's me thinking that if I let you have one of my precious fags, it’ll stop you fucking talking.” He mumbled, placing his back between his lips.
Diana shot him a disapproving look and leaned against the back of the sofa on her elbow, still perched awkwardly on the edge of it. Jackson watched closely as she inhaled deeply and leaned forward to tap the ash into one of the empty bottles of wine upon the coffee table whilst the smoke left her lips. He swallowed hard and licked his bottom lip, well aware that he was enjoying this view a little bit too much.
“You can sit a bit closer, you know,” Jackson crossed his legs over a little tighter in a poor attempt at creating a bit more room, “We’re not strangers.”
Diana rolled her eyes playfully and moved a bit closer to him, taking another drag from the cigarette.
“What the fucks that look for?” Jackson laughed, lifting his glass of whisky to his lips.
“No comment.” Diana exhaled the smoke, reaching for her own glass.
“Don't think I don't think about our times in Berlin…” Jackson spoke quietly against the rim of his glass, watching her closely, “Lush, fancy fucking hotels with plenty of dark corners to have our way in.”
“Or ruining expensive bedding.” Diana smirked against her cigarette, not making eye contact with him.
“Mmm…” Jackson sighed softly, thinking back to a particular moment and pursing his lips behind his glass, “We knew it would never work, though.”
“I can't argue with that.” Diana shook her head.
“You were still a fucking good shag, though.” Jackson winked, smirking at her.
“Such a way with words…” Diana rolled her eyes, gazing down at him for a few moments before suddenly scowling, “Wait, what do you mean ’were’?”
Jackson pursed his lips again and let out a small chuckle, cocking his head to one side as he leaned over to tap his cigarette into the same empty wine bottle as Diana had. He accidentally uncrossed his leg as he moved, nudging Diana toward the edge of the sofa and causing her to grip onto his arm that was rested on the back of the sofa as a result.
“Careful!” She scolded him.
“Oh, you still like to get a good grip of me to steady yourself.” Jackson winked, casting her a playful expression, “Some things never change, Diana.”
“Perhaps if you weren’t quite so…” She paused for a moment to think of the best word, absentmindedly scratching her nails against his upturned forearm laid against the back of the sofa.
“Oooh…” Jackson inhaled through his teeth, shivering from her nails, “That’s nice.” His eyes threatened to fall shut, wriggling against the sofa briefly.
“Mm,” Diana arched a brow, watching as he finally gave in to his eyes closing whilst her nails continued to move against him in circular motions, “If only you were as gentle with me… then I wouldn’t have to cling on so much.”
“Oh, shut up,” Jackson spoke with his eyes closed, bringing his cigarette back to his lips, “You fucking loved it. Don’t deny it.”
Diana bit her bottom lip, her eyes still fixed upon his face, “Must you insist on speaking in the past tense?”
“Mmmh, don’t worry,” Jackson’s eyes opened fully, taking a drink from his glass, “Your name is still very familiar on my lips in a way I don’t think either of us ever could say.”
Diana swallowed hard and felt the heat rise in her body, placing the cigarette back between her lips in a way to try and cover up how his words made her feel.
“Even when I’m not with you, I’m still thinking about it,” Jackson continued, his voice in a drunken but confident tone.
“Thinking about… it?” Diana raised her eyebrows, poorly attempting to show she wasn’t feeling the effect of how he was speaking.
“You.” Jackson replied simply, “Thinking about all those times with you,” He finished what was left in his glass and clumsily placed it on the floor before lifting his arm again and placing his hand against the part of her thigh that was bare beneath the hem of her dress, “Wearing absolutely fucking nothing… but perfume.”
Diana inhaled shakily, trying to act like his hand against her bare skin didn’t make her feel like she was about to melt into the sofa. She tried, but failed, to subtly glance down at it, and Jackson’s confidence inflamed further from noticing it.
“In a hotel, one of our homes, a car, a fancy restaurant bathroom… an office… at work…” His hand slid bit by bit further up her thigh with each word, “Your desk… my desk…” His voice was silkily smooth, causing a feeling throughout Diana’s body that she was irritatingly familiar with.
“Mmm… if that back seat could talk…” Diana bit her lip, staring down into her glass of whisky.
“If your fucking desk could talk…” Jackson raised his eyebrows with a grin.
“It certainly didn’t have the squeak prior to your visit.” Diana pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes.
“Don’t beg for it and then demand an apology.” Jackson chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“I do not beg!” Diana protested, applying a little more pressure with her nails against his skin.
“Yes, you fucking do,” Jackson rolled his eyes, “That pretty little face that inhabits your stiff upper lip hides absolutely fuck all, Diana.” He spoke as he exhaled the smoke.
“Do you remember what you said to everyone at that work’s party?” Diana arched a brow, though looking rather stern.
“’Diana Taverner could be the busiest woman on the planet, but she still has time to fuck’.” Jackson spoke with a grin, gazing up at her.
“What a touching sentiment.” Diana rolled her eyes, shaking her head.
“You didn't speak to me for three days!” Jackson laughed out his words.
“Are you surprised?!” Diana exclaimed, widening her eyes, “At least I always knew where I stood with you then.”
“Yeah, on one fucking leg in some dark corner.” Jackson continued to chuckle.
“Oh, ha-ha!” Diana laughed sarcastically, “That’s still no excuse to say that in front of everyone we worked with.”
“Everyone was far too pissed to remember!” Jackson shrugged, the grin still on his face.
“You just got lucky.” Diana glared at him, having to force her lips not to curve into a smile.
“Mm, if my memory serves correctly, Diana, we both got lucky that night.” Jackson smirked, lightly drumming his fingertips against her inner thigh.
“I don't know what you mean…” Diana mumbled against her glass before taking a sip.
“Oh, but I think you do…” Jackson licked his lips, daring himself to move his hand a little further up.
Diana felt her breath hitch in her throat from his hand and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the flames taunting the pit of her stomach. Jackson raised his eyebrows from her reaction and dropped his finished cigarette into the wine bottle before turning his attention back to her completely.
“Everything okay?” Jackson broke the silence, arching a brow and speaking lowly, “Are you really that touch starved, Diana?”
“Ever the comic, Lamb, aren't you?” Diana rolled her eyes and avoided his question, though hoping her cheeks weren't showing as warm as they felt.
“If my memory serves, you were often the one that wanted their way with me.” Both of Jackson’s eyebrows were raised now.
“Your memory does not…” She trailed off, her train of thought now falling victim to his sweeping fingers against her skin.
“Does not…?” Jackson grinned, drawing patterns against her inner thigh now with the tips of his fingers.
“D-Does not serve you right…” She responded uneasily, her eyes now struggling to stay fully open.
“Oh, is that right?” Jackson chuckled, gazing upon at her and biting his lip for a moment before continuing, “Because I seem to recall that time in the back of a cab where you nearly ended up wanking me off on the way home from one of The Park’s parties…”
“If I was drunk enough to do that, then I was definitely drunk enough to forget about it…” Diana swallowed hard, feeling herself tremble slightly from Jackson’s skilful fingers sweeping delicately back and forth over her inner thigh.
He stopped abruptly and greatly enjoyed the sudden look on her face, her eyes widening and exhaling shakily through her nose. Their eyes met and Jackson bit his lip, trying to steady his own breathing as her body gradually moved closer to his as if gravity was pulling it. His eyes fell to her lips and he smirked when he watched them purse, “Is that right, Diana?”
“Oh, just fucking shut up.” She closed the gap between them by smacking her lips desperately to his.
Jackson grunted from the force, but his free hand soon made it to the back of her head. Their heads tilted in opposite directions and Jackson’s hand, now a little unsteadily, began to sweep across her thigh again as they kissed.
He hadn’t felt her lips for a long while, but the minute they were pressed to his it was like they’d hardly ever been apart. It wasn’t long before their tongues were dancing and Jackson’s hand was pushing its luck; trying to grasp at her underwear. Diana tried to roll her hips in an attempt to help him, but it made little difference. Her hands were now holding onto his neck, clumsily scratching her nails up and down the side of it as she tried to hold herself in place to stay still.
“Mm… in fact,” Jackson broke the kiss briefly to continue his protest, “I specifically remember trying to tell you that you were actually stroking my belt and you said to me that if I didn’t shut up… you were going to sit on my face and make me shut up.”
Diana’s hands now found his face and she pushed her fingertips into his beard, leaning in to kiss him again,” “Mmm… I remember that…” She mumbled, gasping faintly against his lips when she felt his hand finally grasp at her underwear.
Jackson’s heart was thumping madly in his chest, arousal surging around his body from the current situation he found himself in. Diana wanting him like this was something he thought had been left in the past, but it sure as hell still turned him on as much. He ripped her underwear from her and dragged what little material was left down her legs. Diana moaned against his lips, only driving him even more wild, and turned her body to sit over him properly, her fingers still grasping at his beard. Jackson wasn’t entirely sure what the end goal was with tearing off her underwear, but the way she rocked against him as they kissed, the way she kissed, as if trying to lick up any remaining taste of his previous wine, whisky, and cigarettes, made him stop questioning if it was what she wanted.
Both his hands found themselves under the hem of her skirt this time from the way she was now positioned on top of him. His nicotine stained fingertips gripped weakly at her bare skin, feeling himself becoming lightheaded from the way she was kissing him; devouring him, more like.
“Imagine what it would feel like now…” She breathed against his lips, “With that beard… mmm.” She continued to grasp it between her fingertips, kissing him feverishly.
“Oohh…” Jackson shivered, even his drunken brain knowing what she was implying, “Be my fucking guest, love.” He let out a shaky breath, “After the day you’ve had…” His hands were now trembling upon her skin, “Gotta… Destress… Somehow…” He spoke in between Diana’s manic kisses, almost forgetting his own name at this point, let alone how to speak in full sentences.
“What, no ’what’s in it for me?’” Diana smirked against his lips, pulling at his bottom one between her teeth.
“Nope,” Jackson grinned, his hands absentmindedly parting her legs over his body as he kissed her again, “My lips are fucking sealed, Diana.”
“Mm, I certainly hope they aren't,” She nipped at his lips roughly, “You’ve got the most persuasive tongue. I’ve missed it.”
Jackson’s entire body was throbbing with want at this point, sending what was left of his drunken head into a spiral, and the things she was saying to him made him question whether this was even real life at all. Diana Taverner begging to sit on his face…. again?
“W—Well,” Jackson swallowed hard, almost convinced he was paralysed at this point, “You have had a bad day at work, I’m not surprised you need to… need some… relief,” He exhaled shakily, “H-Happens to the best of us.”
“It does,” Diana whispered, pulling back to gaze down at him, “And would you be willing to… help?”
Jackson watched her tongue closely as she licked along her bottom lip before biting it with an angelic smile.
“Oh, yes,” Jackson nodded quickly, trying to grasp onto any bit of sanity he had left and look somewhat like he wasn't afraid of what she’d be able to feel if she sat a little further over his crotch, “It’s all part of the job,” He smirked, “I must service my damsel in distress.”
Diana let out a loud, singular, drunken laugh, “Oh, please…”
Jackson crinkled his nose and grinned, shuffling himself a little further down the sofa as he helped guide her further up his body, “Since you asked so nicely.”
“Mm, please, please, please…” She spoke in a seductive tone before practically moaning out his name, “Please, Jackson…”
Unable to respond verbally from being far too aroused, he placed his hands on her thighs and guided her upward. Diana narrowed her eyebrows and placed her hands on the arm of the sofa now above Jackson’s head as his face disappeared between her legs.
Jackson grunted softly and raised his hands, placing them against her waist as she settled herself over him properly.
“O-Oh… that tickles, Jackson…” She giggled faintly when she felt his beard brush against her inner thighs as she started to move her hips shakily over his face — not entirely sure what she was doing in her drunken state. Jackson parted his lips further and stuck his tongue out, making sure to brush it against her as she moved back and forth, “Oh!” Diana mooned softly, her hands now gripping onto the arm of the sofa properly. Jackson’s hands held onto her hips a little tighter, urging them to stop moving and earning a little, “W-What…”
Jackson mumbled something that sounded a bit like, “Stay fucking still, woman,” And then pursed his lips properly, kissing her exactly where she wanted and feeling himself throb from the soft sigh she made as a result. She was only just getting used to his taunting pepper kisses before arching her back in delight when she felt him suddenly start to work his ’persuasive tongue’.
“Oh, Jackson, fuck!” She gasped in pleasure, hanging her head forward and watching her skirt move slightly with each movement of his head before her heavy eyes gave in completely and rolled back as they closed, “Mm… Jackson, yes…” Her moans were repetitive but faint, and causing quite the bump in the front of Jackson’s pants. His first instinct was to reach down and give himself a bit of attention, but, instead, he raised his hands further until he could feel her breasts, “Mmmhh… fuuuck…” Her head dropped forward fully, now gripping onto the arm of the sofa so tightly that her knuckles turned bright white.
“Mm, mm…” Jackson vibrated his lips, kneading his hands against her breasts as she rolled her hips forward over him.
Diana’s nails dug into the sofa and her mouth hung open, shivering from the combination of Jackson’s tongue, beard, and hands. Jackson was feeling an all-too-familiar flame flicker in the pit of his stomach and suddenly became afraid of how quickly it would erupt without aid.
“Mmmhh, I want to see you, Jackson…” Diana whimpered, trying to look over her shoulder, “W—Want… you…”
Jackson’s hands left her breasts and hooked under her thighs again, helping her reposition herself to lay back over his body again. She didn't even give Jackson time to breathe or speak before desperately crashing their lips back together — not even caring about what had just been upon them.
“Ooh, hello,” Jackson chuckled against her lips, kissing her back immediately and running his hands up and down her back, “We need to get these off, for fuck sake.”
“Mm, feels like something is already trying to make its way out of yours.” Diana smirked, rocking against him.
“Then, why don't you fucking see to it, hm?” Jackson growled, smacking one of his hands against her bottom.
“Oh!” Diana let out a loud, drunken giggle and kissed him harshly once more before clumsily climbing off him and holding her hand out for him to take.
Jackson took her hand and got up, leaving no time before their lips were reattached. His hands immediately darted to the zip on her skirt and he fumbled with it for a few moments before managing to get it undone. Diana had little patience for the buttons on his shirt, ripping it open from his open collar and dragging it off his arms as their lips remained somehow attached. He pulled her blouse over her head and she untucked his vest, discarding it on the floor before her hands made quick work of his belt, his trousers pooling to the floor soon after. Jackson reached behind her and unclasped her bra like it was second nature and tossed it carelessly to the floor, the two of them instantly drawing back in to one another.
Their hands explored each other’s bodies as if for the first time and pure sensual adrenaline surged through them. Their kisses were growing even more desperate than before and Jackson hissed through his teeth when he felt Diana’s hand brushing against his arousal, nipping at his lips clumsily when she felt him pulsate against her.
“You have no idea how much your shouting turns me on,” Jackson panted against her lips, backing her up against a chest of drawers located by the wall, “Makes me so fucking horny when you're all moany.”
“Mmm, some people just need a good telling off…” Diana spoke lowly, smirking against his lips when she felt the back of her bare legs against the chest of drawers.
“You’re so fucking bad for me, Diana…” Jackson slurred, sighing heavily as his lips dipped to her neck, kissing the skin roughly.
“Don't act like I made you come…” Diana grinned, tilting her head to the side. Jackson lifted his head and parted his lips to make a vulgar comment but Diana beat him to it, placing her index finger over his lips, “Don’t even think about it.”
Jackson bit down on the tip of her finger gently and gazed directly into her eyes, raising his eyebrows. Diana pulled her finger back and glanced down between them, smirking at the size of him as she lifted her head back up.
“What are you so fucking happy about?” Jackson squinted his eyes.
“I think the same could be said for you…” Diana bit her lip, brushing her body forward against him.
Jackson placed his hands on her hips and spun her around so she was in front of him, wrapping his arms around her naked body from behind and latching his lips onto her shoulder. Diana allowed her eyes to flutter shut as he walked them both forward and moaned softly from the feeling of his lips against her skin. Jackson felt himself pulsate from her reaction and gently suckled upon the crook of her neck, brushing his fingertips tauntingly close to her belt line and dipping them further down with each step they took.
“Mm, Jackson, please…” Diana whimpered faintly, now leaning back against him from how weak he was making her knees feel.
“Oh, now this takes me back to Berlin,” Jackson whispered directly into her ear when he felt her weight against him to keep her upright, kissing her temple softly whilst hovering one of his hands between her legs, “Fuck, you’d drive me fucking insane.”
“What, because I'd usually just fall at your feet?” Diana grinned.
Jackson turned her around to face him and sat her on the arm of the sofa as she spoke, “All it would take was a peck on the crook of your neck, and your legs would part like the fucking Red Sea…”
“Mm, no comment…” Diana licked her lips, gazing up at him as he placed his hands on her knees.
“Just call me fucking Moses.” Jackson growled, stepping between her legs when she parted them for him and crashing his lips back down onto hers.
Diana wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back urgently, her chest rising and falling with want as Jackson’s hands slid up and down her thighs. They tilted their heads and deepened the harsh kisses even further, their tongues knotting together with the desperation. Jackson moved himself a little further forward and took a shaky breath, pulling at her bottom lip as his trembling hands pushed her legs a little further open.
“Hmm, what would Catherine Standish say…” Diana whispered, grinning.
Jackson paused suddenly and looked down at her, their faces still close, “What did you just fucking say?”
“I said…” Diana swallowed hard, “I wonder what Catherine Standish would say.”
“And why the fuck would you say that?” Jackson slurred, exhaling heavily.
“Because it's just classic you…” Diana shrugged confidently, “Running to me whenever things with Standish started to feel a bit too real.”
“Diana, if you want this night to go the way you’re implying then I suggest you keep her name out of your fucking mouth.” Jackson spoke lowly, able to feel her breath against his lips.
“But you owe her nothing.” Diana brushed her lips against his, thoroughly enjoying the rise any mention of her ever got out of him, “I bet the thought of me and Standish fighting over you would be your wet dream, Jackson.” She spoke in a seductive tone, “You must have spent many nights with your hand just picturing it… hm?”
“This is your last warning, Diana…” Jackson breathed out his words heavily, trying to act like that thought had never crossed his mind.
“Oh, is it?” Diana nipped at his bottom lip and hooked her legs around his waist, “Turning up at my door, ending up in my bed… telling me how badly you wanted me?” She reached between them and ran her index finger from the base of his cock all the way to the tip and grinning when she heard him audibly shiver, “Saying you ran to me instead of her?”
“What does it matter if I lie to you?” Jackson grumbled against her lips, “You were always there for me when I needed something to put my cock in.”
“Yeah?” Diana scoffed, though irritatingly turned on by it, “What about now?”
They kissed slowly, but just once.
“Don’t speak of her again and you’ll find out.” Jackson whispered, his heart beating madly from the cocktail of emotions racing through him.
Diana could hear the seriousness in his voice and immediately felt a spike of jealousy injected into her, but when he thrust his hips forward, any thought other than the relieved feeling of his cock again went out of the window. Jackson knew he could fuck her in a way unlike he could with Catherine — without care. As long as they both got off, what else mattered?
Jackson’s hands were still clasped to her thighs and Diana’s arms were locked around his neck, kissing him hard as he wasted no time in starting to move his hips. Her legs were still hooked loosely around his waist began to move back and forth with him, whimpering against his lips with each thrust. Jackson felt beads of sweat already gathering on his forehead but still pushed himself to move faster, trying to chase the feeling he had been deprived of for so long.
“J—Jackson, fucking… Lamb!” Diana moaned out her words, shakily trying to tighten her legs around him to bring him closer.
“Lay down for me, Diana,” Jackson spoke uneasily, breaking the kiss.
Diana opened her heavy eyes and gazed up at him, swallowing hard. Jackson carefully eased her down over the arm of the sofa and she propped herself up with her elbows, her legs still dangling over the edge of the arm in Jackson’s steady grip and her hips elevated. Diana pushed her hips up a little more and Jackson stepped further forward, tightening his grip as he started to plough his hips forward at a better pace than before with more given space for movement.
“Oh, fucking hell!” Jackson groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure and squeezing his eyes shut.
Diana’s back arched in ecstasy and Jackson’s jaw jarred with each thrust, feeling as if fireworks were beginning to build in his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this; giving in to his desires, even if they were emotionless.
“Oh, never… ever… leave me this long without your cock again, Jackson…” Diana spoke as her eyes rolled back, “It would be a fucking sin.”
Jackson smirked widely, her words only urging him to move even faster. His hands were becoming sweaty and he was losing his grip on her thighs, but the flames were licking his body faster than ever. His thighs tensed and his mouth hung wide open, able to feel himself pulsate with each thrust.
“Oh, fuck…” He gasped, letting out several strangled moans as his hands began to tremble madly against her thighs, “Oh, fuck, yes… Catherine!”
His entire body froze. He was drunk, but even he knew he had just said something wrong. His eyes widened but his mouth remained open.
“What the hell did you just call me?!” Diana exclaimed, suddenly mustering all the strength she could to raise herself up onto the arm of the sofa again. Once they were in eye line again, Diana could read the mortified look on his face which only confirmed her suspicion and she immediately pushed him back with both hands against his chest, “Get away from me!”
“D—Diana!” Jackson whined loudly as he stumbled back several steps until he caught himself on the chest of drawers. He was trembling from head to toe, so close to his own climax before he blurted out the wrong name. His entire body was ringing with want to be attended to, but all he saw when he finally dared himself to gaze across the room at her was a furious Diana with her hands upon her hips. The look alone was almost enough to make him blow hands-free. His face was flushed crimson.
“You fucking scumbag,” Diana’s nostrils flared, glaring at him as her chest raised up and down furiously, “I cannot bloody believe you, Jackson,” She exhaled loudly, turning away when she noticed his eyes fixated on her chest moving up and down, “Actually, I can.”
“Diana, please, I can explain…” Jackson narrowed his eyebrows, wanting nothing more than to follow her but afraid that any sudden movement would push him over the edge.
“Catherine fucking Standish…” Diana grumbled lowly to herself and reached for the whisky bottle, taking a swig from it.
Jackson felt as if he was about to pass out. The woman who usually only ever showed him her irritated, unwelcoming side was now being openly jealous whilst drinking his favourite whisky straight from the bottle, and his cock was throbbing angrily as a result of it all.
The temptation to reach down and finish himself off when he was so close to the edge was whizzing through his brain, but the truth was he was actually a little bit frightened of her. And, even more shocking, that turned him on even more.
“Come get your whisky if you really want it.” She spoke against the rim of the bottle.
How could she act like they weren't just fucking on the arm of her sofa? Unless the ‘whisky’ was a metaphor.
Hesitantly, Jackson began to take a few steps forward, swallowing hard when he felt the air against his painfully hardened length as he walked. Diana watched him closely as he walked in a not-so-straight line and held the bottle tightly in her hand. Jackson glanced at the bottle and then at her face, too on edge to even speak at this point. Diana extended her arm and Jackson made to take the bottle from her before widening his eyes when she raised her free hand and pushed him swiftly down onto the sofa instead.
“Wh-What?!” Jackson exclaimed, landing on his bare bottom and feeling his erection instantly slap back up to hit his lower stomach.
He watched closely as Diana brought the bottle to her lips again and swallowed hard, his hands trembling at either side of him as his cock pulsed. Diana’s eyes walked all over his distressed body and she smirked, “Don't you fucking dare touch yourself.” She hiccuped, narrowing her eyes at him.
“I…” Jackson groaned, “I can't stay like this.” He whined, pressing his palms down into the sofa at either side of him.
“Oh, but you can.” Diana shot him an authoritative look.
Jackson’s eyes followed her as she stepped closer and knelt before him, slotting in between his legs. His lips parted subconsciously and thighs began to shake, unsure of what she was about to do next, and wondering why he deserved what he thought it would be. It was far from that, however. This was Diana Taverner, after all.
Diana smirked wickedly and placed the bottle of whisky between his legs, resting it purposefully against his hardened length and finding the several profanities that left his lips as a result highly amusing. She slowly wrapped her fist around the neck of the bottle and gazed up at him, making sure she could see what his reaction was.
“For fu…” Jackson inhaled sharply, “Wh-What are you doing to me, Diana?”
“I’m just so thirsty…” Diana mumbled and dipped her head, placing her hands on his inner thighs keep them spread and enveloping her lips around the head of the whisky bottle and imitating sucking it as their eye contact remained.
“Diana!” Jackson exclaimed, unsure of if his heart or cock was beating faster, “For fuck sake! Jesus fucking Christ!”
He had to dig his fingers into the sofa to prevent them from moving between his legs, practically gasping for breath at this point. Diana not reacting only drove him more wild, and when she pushed more of the neck of the bottle into her mouth and sucked to the point of her cheeks caving in, he felt as if even the slightest tickle of her hair against him could make him explode.
“P—Please, Diana, fucking please…” He panted, breathing shakily, “I—I’m sorry for saying her name, I— I wasn't thinking…”
“Mm, mm…” Diana moaned softly as she continued to suckle against the neck of the bottle.
“Diana!” Jackson cried, having to physically restrain himself at this point, “Y-You’re fucking killing me, woman! Please!”
Diana pulled the bottle out of her mouth completely, making sure he heard the popping noise as it left her lips and gazed up at him with an innocent smile, “Hm?”
“F…Fucking killing me…” He wheezed, starting down at her with wide eyes.
“Placebo effect is a wonderful thing…” Diana whispered, “I don't even need to put it in my mouth.”
Jackson parted his lips to speak but words failed him for a brief moment as Diana stuck her tongue out, teasing the tip of it against the rim of the bottle as her previous eye contact resumed.
“D—Diana…” Jackson let out an exasperated sight of defeat before widening his eyes as she suckled on the end of the open bottle with her eyes closed this time and nails lightly digging into his thighs, “I’m not above busting in the fucking bottle, you know!” He shouted desperately.
“Something you’ve done before?” Diana asked as she removed her lips once more.
“Back of that fucking cab in Berlin…” Jackson spoke weakly, his hands violently shaking against the sofa, “I’m shocked you don't remember! Always fucking gagging for it.”
“Perhaps I do…” Diana pursed her lips against the opening of the bottle.
“You could just fucking sit on me and save a whole load of fucking mess…” He whined, feeling his cock aching with each throb, “J—Just an idea.”
“Mm, does sound like a tempting offer…” Diana licked her lips slowly, gazing up at him as she placed the bottle on the floor.
Jackson gave her a pleading look and exhaled deeply, finally allowing himself to relax a little when she stood up again. She placed her hands on his shoulders and he slouched down a bit, allowing her a little more room to straddle his lap. Their eyes met for a short moment, both hoping as much as the other at this point for what was about to happen.
“Fucking get down here.” Jackson growled, reaching up for her face and pulling her down into a desperate kiss.
Their lips smacked back together, teeth clattering, and Jackson placed both his hands on her hips, guiding her over his lap properly. Both of them moaned in sync when she sat over his entire length in one go, feeling Jackson deflate in relief almost immediately.
“Ugh, that's fucking it.” Jackson grunted, guiding her up and down repeatedly as he tilted his head against the back of the sofa.
“Mmmh, fuck, this is what you wanted?” Diana giggled faintly against his lips, bouncing over him quickly as her hands stayed pressed to his cheeks whilst they kissed repeatedly, “You should've said.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He muttered against her lips, not even having the energy to try and lift his hips to meet hers at this point.
“I’d ask you to make me, but unfortunately I'm currenltly sat on the thing you usually stick in my mouth.” She smirked, kissing him harshly.
“There’s nothing fucking unfortunate about it.” Jackson grinned, already sensing that it was going to take little to push him over the edge.
Diana parted the kiss to let out a louder moan and tilted her head back, squeezing her eyes shut as she gripped onto his shoulders tightly. Jackson’s hands shook against her hips as they became sweaty, barely able to hold onto her as she moved slickly back and forth over him.
“And to think this is the life that Prince Charles gave up on…” Jackson’s mouth hung open, “Being ridden like this by Lady fucking Di.”
“Mmm… it’s unlike you to compare yourself to a future King…” Diana giggled, the heat in her body rising.
“I already fucking feel like a King when I've got you using my cock as a fucking pogo stick.” Jackson responded, narrowing his eyebrows as his thighs began to tense.
“O—Oh, oh, Jackson!” Diana whimpered loudly, her fingers pressing harder into his shoulders as she felt herself getting closer and closer.
“Diana, don't stop now…” Jackson gasped, “I swear to fucking god, if you sto— OH!” He cried out in pleasure as he hit his peak, “I— I’m… cu—!” His moans were so strangled that they prevented him from even speaking, shooting string after string of pent up release inside her with each of her movements.
“Jackson fucking Lamb!” Diana gasped, falling victim to him immediately and digging her nails into his shoulders to the point of drawing blood as she rode out her orgasm, “Fucking… fuck!”
The two of them writhed against each other, their sweat mixing and moans clashing together like one, long continuous noise. Jackson felt like he was on top of the world, like he was about five stone lighter. Diana whimpered softly as she gradually slowed down her hips, leaning down to kiss him once more. However, if it weren't for his chest rising and falling dramatically, it would have been like kissing a corpse, or a stunned animal. He was in a trance, completely overwhelmed with what had just happened.
“Fucking hell, Diana,” Jackson swallowed hard, speaking weakly after a long, stunned silence, “You never fucking disappoint.”
Diana giggled and climbed off him, brushing her hair back with her fingers. She gazed down at Jackson on the sofa. He looked like a relieved mess; sweaty, fading flushed cheeks, and breathing like he’d just climbed several flights of stairs.
“Come on,” Diana gestured for him to get up.
“Wow,” Jackson raised his eyebrows as he stood up, leaning down to grab his trousers, “A bit quick for a fuck and chuck, Diana. Even for you.”
“No,” Diana shook her head with a sly grin, “Come here.”
“I’m sorry?” Jackson stumbled slightly, taking her outstretched hand.
Diana leaned up and pressed their lips together again, smirking when Jackson returned it. She lead him in the direction of her bedroom and brushed one of her hands against his length, grinning from his reaction.
“Mm, no whisky dick for you…” Diana giggled, “Incredible. At your age, too. And in your current health state. How do you do it?”
“Simple,” Jackson let out a singular laugh, “You are my viagra, Diana.”
“Mmm… no matter the jealousy that may or may not be—”
“Definitely is,” Jackson butted in, letting out a loud, wheezy chuckle.
“No matter the jealousy that may or may not be there,” Diana repeated, narrowing her eyes at him, “It was always better to have just a part of you than nothing.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jackson smirked, looking down at her, “Any fuckin’ particular part?”
“Shut up.” Diana rolled her eyes with a grin, pushing him in the direction of her bedroom.
“So, what now, do we cuddle?” Jackson asked sarcastically, watching her open her bedroom door.
“Oh, god, no…” Diana grimaced as if offended at the thought of anything other than desperate, meaningless sex, “I’m not done with you yet.”
“No?” Jackson pouted, trying not to grin.
“Just one question, though.” She tilted her head inquisitively.
“Go on, then,” Jackson raised his eyebrows and exhaled as if trying to act unbothered, “Make it fucking quick.”
“Why didn't you call me earlier? You know, when I didn't show up.” Diana squinted her eyes.
“Because I wanted to see you face to face,” Jackson shrugged simply, leaning against her bedroom doorway with his arms across his chest and watching her closely, “And, truth be fucking told, Diana, I think you wanted me to see you, too. I think this was all part of your fucking plan of getting me in several compromising positions, to say the least.” He arched a brow with a sly grin.
Diana’s eyes flickered up to his and she pulled him into her bedroom fully, speaking with a devilish smirk against his lips as he kicked the door shut, “Good work, Agent Lamb.”
--
Thank you SO much for reading - sorry it was so long 🫣 feel free to let me know your thoughts, I'll be forever grateful for anyone who takes time out of their day to read what I write 🫶
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