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AAA WINTERFEST DAY 1: FIRST CHRISTMAS

So I just found out that AAA winterfest was a thing, so in typical winterfest fashion I had to bang out a prompt after work.

Playing real fast and loose with prompt fulfillment, but this takes place in the detective au fic and it is "techincially" Agatha's and Rio's first christmas together. Be warned of smut

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Day 1

Just Friends Winterfest 1

Summary: It's Agatha and Rios first christmas together.... kind of

Or

Rio fucks Agatha in the back of the precinct

~~~

Agatha leans back in her chair with a groan. The desks around her empty, everyone else having had the good sense to go home Christmas Eve. Not her. She was stuck at her desk reviewing, she squints at the paper in front of her, garden gnome theft? She tosses the paper back on her desk.

A waste of time is what it is. She considers, briefly, heading over to the break room, where she knows the other unlucky night shifters, rookies and people who pissed off their supervisor, would be. Someone brought in cookies earlier today and Johnson brought his "non alcoholic" eggnog. Convinced the chief it was fine 'cause it was a Martha Stewart recipe.

Sneaking a mug of that eggnog sounds appealing, but that would also mean talking to other people, and then answering the inevitable question, "Why are you here?" Because now that she's a detective she doesn't need to pull these weird hours, unless she's on a case. And she's not on a case.There really isn't any reason for her to be here.

But here is not home, and there's nothing waiting for her at home.

She pulls the garden gnome file back towards her.

Holidays were stupid anyways.

~~~

She's dosing when she feels a tingle at the back of her neck. A sense of unease washes over her and she cracks her eye open to survey the bullpen. There's a figure walking towards her, weaving through the desks with ease. Agatha scowls and closes her eyes.

The person sits on the edge of her desk, heedless of the papers scattered across it. Agatha keeps her eyes closed. Maybe they'll take a hint.

"What are you still doing here?"

Maybe they won't.

Agatha sighs and opens her eyes. Special Agent Rio Vidal sits before her, half smile on her face. She's not in her work clothes, not in the clean pressed suit and slick neat bun. Instead her hair is down, and she's in jeans and a soft cable knit sweater. Agatha resists the urge to straighten her own clothes. No amount of fixing would make her worn out jeans and wrinkled flannel reach the effortless put-togetherness that Rio exudes.

"Shouldn't you be on a train?" Agatha ignores the other woman's question. "Our case is over with."

"It got cancelled," she says with a shrug. "Too much snow on the tracks."

Agatha watches as Rio's eyes track the different papers and folders on her desk. There's a furrow between her brows. It's hardly noticeable, but it's always there when she's putting together pieces of a puzzle. Agatha fidgets, knee bouncing. She wonder's what Rio sees.

"These aren't active cases." She picks up one of the papers. "They aren't even assigned to you."

"Just felt like helping out is all," Agatha mumbles. She snatches the paper away from Rio, but she can tell the other woman is not satisfied. She can feel her gaze piercing into her soul while she tries to read over the case.

"You're all alone this Christmas aren't you." Rio says it in a sing songy voice, but it does nothing to dull the ache she feels inside. "No friends?" Agatha tenses. "No family?"

"Shut up." It comes out as a whisper.

"All alone in that big old house."

"Stop."

Rio hums, ignoring her. "What about your mother? Those church types sure do love Christmas Eve. I bet she would love to see her only daughter visit. You know, if her daughter wasn't a—."

"Fucking drop it," Agatha shouts. A head pops up from across the room and Agatha quickly lowers her voice. The damage was already done though. There is a self satisfied smirk on Rio's face as she looks down at her, and Agatha curses herself for falling for the bait.

Thought it isn't really her fault. Rio knows. And Rio knows better too. Agatha growls and stands up, chair rolling back to hit the desk behind her. She brushes past Rio roughly. "I'm going for a smoke."

"You're forgetting your coat," Rio calls out.

Agatha flips her middle finger not bothering to look back. She doesn't need a fucking coat.

~~~

She should've brought a fucking coat. It's snowing. Fat flakes fall from the sky covering the ground. She's huddled up by the door, the small alcove doing nothing to protect her from the cold. Technically speaking, she's not supposed to be smoking right next to the door, but technically speaking whoever made that law can go fuck themselves.

Her hands are shoved in her pockets while the cigarette dangles from her lips. The wind blows and cuts right through all of her one layer of clothing. Her thoughts drift, as it often seemed to do, towards Rio. It's reasonable this time, because she's the entire fucking reason she's out here. A dozen different responses of what she could've said to Rio but didn't flit through her head as she thinks over their conversation.

"What a fucking asshole," she grumbles, and then watches as the cigarette falls out of her mouth and into the snow below. "FUCK!"

~~~

Agatha takes her time walking back to her desk. The snow that had accumulated on her in her brief foray outside has melted and now instead of just cold, she's also wet. She thinks she might have a spear shirt in her desk, and would love to change into it, but she's also hesitant about seeing Rio again. Instead she loiters in the break room.

The cookies are gone, multicolored sprinkles on the countertop the only evidence that they were ever there. The eggnog is still there. It's in a crockpot, and Agatha eyes it warily. There's a weird skin on the top, and a mug lying sideways in it. It's red and green and Agatha carefully picks it up bringing with it a half of cup of the creamy liquid.

She pours it in to another cup, because she has standards, takes a sip, and gags. It's fucking disgusting. But it's got enough alcohol to quiet her thoughts, and it warms her up in more ways than one so she keeps drinking. She takes the cup and sinks down on the couch that sits at the back of the room.

~~~

She's got a pleasant buzz going. The mug is held loosely in her hands and her eyes are closed and she just breathes. She had already made one trip back to the eggnog, ignoring the slimy bits, because Johnson was focused more on the ABV instead of actually creating a palatable drink. The chief would probably be mad that she's drinking on the job, but the chief also never comes on Christmas Day so she thinks she clear.

Footsteps enter the room.

Agatha sighs. "Rio I swear to god—,"

"Oh there you are?"

Agatha cracks an eye open. Not Rio stands before her.

The cops some mousy Asian girl that just transferred over looks at her with a board expression on her face. Her hands are tucked into her vest and she raises an eyebrow at Agatha's mostly empty mug. "You're wanted in conference room Z," she says.

Agatha frowns. Conference room Z isn't really a conference room. It's just a glorified storage closet they found that someone put a card table in and someone else taped a printed sign to.

"What?"

"Dunno?" The cop shrugs and starts walking away. "Was just told to tell you that you were supposed to go to conference room Z."

Agatha has an inkling of who would be waiting for her there. If she was smart, she'd ignore the request and go back to her desk, or better yet go home. But unfortunately she has had just enough to drink to start the trek down the halls to the allusive conference room Z.

She opens the door harder than necessary, leaning against the door to see Rio sitting at the table, legs kicked up to rest on top of it. Rio's looks her up her down before pushing back from the table, planting her feet on the ground.

"Come here," she beckons, and Agatha does.

Agatha walks until she's standing between Rio's spread legs. Rio's hands come up to grasp her hips, and she looks up at her.

"Hi," Rio says, tongue poking out her mouth.

"Hi," Agatha says back, because know that she's standing there, she can't help but notice how brown Rio's eyes are. Has it always been that brown? Has she always looked that good?

Rio's hand sneaks up the front of her shirt and fists her collar pulling her down for a kiss. Agatha sinks into it, eyes fluttering closed as she leans into Rio. A whimper leaves her throat when Rio pulls back.

"You've been drinking?" Rio asks.

"Just a little." Agatha tries to push forward for another kiss but Rio holds her back.

"And on the job? Santa's not going to like that."

Agatha sits down on the other woman straddling her legs. "Santa Claus can go fuck himself." She grabs Rio's face with both hands and presses forward to try and steal another kiss. This time Rio lets her.

It feels like forever and also no time at all when Rio stands. Agatha squeaks, legs instinctively wrapping around the other woman. The room spins and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Rio, what the fuck?" she slurs.

She is just as quickly deposited on the small card table, and she's pushed down to lie on her back. Agatha stares at the ceiling trying to regain her bearings.

"You know how long I've been waiting for you?" Rio asks.

Her voice is low and her fingers are deftly undoing the buttons of Agatha's shirt. Agatha lays their motionless as Rio's hand ghosts across the bare skin of her stomach before pushing under the fabric of her sports bra. She bites her lips and stifles a moan as she grabs a handful of her flesh.

"Answer me." Rio pinches a nipple, and Agatha's back arches, a whine coming from her throat.

Agatha tries to focus but all she can feel is Rio's hands. They alternate between groping and kneading her breasts, and pinching and rolling her nipples. "Dunno," she manages to squeeze out.

Agatha's usually not this sensitive, and while alcohol does make her more horny than it usually does it doesn't usually have this effect. She feels like very sense has been dialed up to ten. Every breath, every touch, sends signals directly to her cunt. She can feel herself getting wet, slick dripping out of her.

You don't know?" Rio's voice is mocking, and she leans over licking a stripe up Agatha's stomach before latching on to her breast.

"Oh Fuck," Agatha shouts. Her hips try to buck, but Rio's on top of her holding her down. Her hands fly down to grab at Rio's head, but Rio quickly redirects them.

She pulls off of Agatha's chest, and the cold air surrounds her nipple. "Think I've got better use for that." She manipulates Agatha's hand, curling the fingers until there is two poking out. "Open your mouth baby," Rio says, and Agatha does, sucking in her own fingers.

"Good girl," Rio coos. "Don't want you getting too loud. Wouldn't want your coworkers finding you here. Moaning like a bitch in heat."

Agatha bites down on her fingers, the pain bringing the slightest bit of awareness to her situation. She's at work, technically on duty, and that door definitely does not lock. She tries to push herself up into a sitting position but Rio holds her down.

Rio's hand snakes down between their bodies teasing at the waist of her pants. "How wet do you think you'll." She cranes her head up to mouth at Agatha's neck. "I think you'll be soaked." Her hand slips into Agatha's jeans cupping lightly over her underwear. Agatha whines around her fingers, drool pooling in her mouth.

"You were always so desperate."

Rio doesn't move her hand. It rests there, gently cupping Agatha's mound and it is driving her insane. Agatha squirms underneath Rio, tries anything to get some friction where she needs it most. She's basically rutting into Rio's hand, but it does nothing.

"Rio," she gasps.

"Beg."

"Please, please, please." The shame has left her and the pleas leave her lips. Her hand has left her mouth and instead her spit covered digits hold on to her shirt. She's lying half naked on a shitty table in a glorified supply closet at her work. She's committed, at this point, to debasing herself. "Rio please touch me."

"Well since you asked so nicely." Her fingers move out of her pants and Agatha almost cries before they, along with her underwear are being pushed down to her knees. The plastic is cold beneath her butt, but Agatha can't find it in herself to care. Rio's fingers come up, tracing a path along her thigh, before finally coming to where she needs it most.

Yes, Agatha chants in her head, and also, apparently, out loud. Rio sinks in three fingers at once. There's no preparation, but there is no need because Agatha's soaked. She can feel it, and she can hear it. The squelch of Rio's fingers as they move inside her.

"Did you see how easily you took me." There's a hint of awe in Rio's voice. She twists her wrist drawing out a moan from Agatha. "You're such a fucking slut aren't you?"

"Yes," Agatha whines.

"You're my fucking slut."

"Yes. Yes. I'm yours." If she were sober would be embarrassed at the words falling out of her mouth. As it was, all she could think about was the cliff she was hurtling towards. If she were sober she'd also be embarrassed about that as well.

"Rio," she pants. Her breasts are bouncing and the table rocks from the force of Rio's thrusts. "I'm gonna come."

"No," Rio says sharply. "You can't." She speeds up the motion of her hand, and the other one comes down to rub at her clit.

Agatha feels like she's on fire. "I can't," she whimpers. She's tensing, trying to hold back. "Rio please. Please let me come."

"You want to be a good girl right?" Rio asks.

"Uh huh," she nods.

"Then you can hold out a little longer."

Agatha shakes her head. She can't. It's like her senses are in overdrive and suddenly everything is just too much. Her hand reaches blindly to grasp at the other woman. "Rio, I need… I need…" She doesn't know what she needs.

"Oh baby don't cry." Rio reaches up to touch her face, one hand cupping her cheek. Her hand is wet and sticky and Agatha clenches around nothing and she realizes that Rio stopped fucking her.

She feels devastated. "Rio please," she wails.

Rio adjusts herself so that her thigh is slotted between her legs. She presses up and Agatha bucks, groaning as her core rubs against denim. "Come on. Take what you need," she says, and Agatha does.

Her hips move on her own accord, rutting against Rio's leg in no discernible rhythm. Rio's speaking, random words of praise and degradation that go in one ear and out the other as she mindlessly seeks her pleasure.

"Come Agatha," Rio says.

And she does.

~~~

A bone seated weariness settles over her. She knows she must look a mess. She can feel the sweat dripping down her body, and her hair sticking to her face. Her legs dangle uselessly of the edge of the table, and she turns her head to look at Rio.

Rio's leaning against the door, legs crossed, looking not at all like she just fucked someone within an inch of the life. One hand rests on the doorknob, the other in her back pocket. She smiles, tongue poking out between her teeth.

"Merry Christmas."

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