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Story Notes:

Yes I can't help it, I keep catching little glimpses between the two during Justified re-watches. Why won't the writers give me a cute pair to ship instead of Raylan and his disasters.

Anyway my lovelies, this is also to make up for the massive case of Lust and Other Disasters in Harlan County writer's block I've been suffering through. I'm tweaking two chapters as we speak. So updates are on the way. Thanks for your patience.

Disclaimer:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


No amount of coffee was worth doing Raylan Givens dirty work, and yet when he promised a never ending supply of Caramel Macchiatos, she just couldn't say no.


Deputy Marshal Rachel Brooks made her way to the lower level of the Federal Building, signed Charlie's clipboard, and slipped into the eerie comfort of the room that signified purgatory for the mountain of forgotten evidence. She shifted the twenty pounds of ancient case files on her hip. Leave it to her co-workers to wait for the threat of a looming audit to encourage them to tidy up their work space. And leave to her to be a helpless caffeine addict who would do anything for twenty ounces of rich Columbian goodness.  


She thumped a few rogue dust mites from the shelf and slid the box into place. The lights flickered and she resisted the urge to shiver. Instead, Rachel ran her fingers along the handle of her revolver until her nerves settled. She wasn't some clueless teen-aged girl and Jason Voorhees wasn't around the corner waiting to chop her head off and toss it in the lake.


"Deputy you mind keeping an eye on things," Heart beating a mile a minute she turned in the direction of the older man's voice, "I got to go..."


She waved off the desk guard's explanation, "Take your time."


She scanned the room reading case names, dates, while her finger trailed along the metal rows and shelves.


When the door to the cage slammed and Rachel nearly jumped out of her skin, she whipped around, only to find Tim standing there with a mischievous gleam in his eye.


"Live right Rachel and then you won't have to be scared all the time."


Was he for real?  


She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.


"If certain people would stop trying to corrupt me every chance they get, I could live right."


 She fought the smirk begging to grace her lips.


 "What do you want Gutterson?"


He eased his fingers between the bars of the door and she immediately became conscious of the size of his hands, the length of his fingers, and the way his eyes twinkled as they raked over her body.


She shook her head, answering his unspoken question before adding a verbal response, for complete clarification.

"Not at work."




All that was missing was a stomping foot and pouting mouth and the grown man in front of her would be in full spoiled brat mode.

"Work..." She whispered, reminding him of their agreement.


Their relationship was new; birthed from a night of too many drinks with Raylan and Art and at least two years of lingering lustful leers. Whatever was going on between them they had agreed it would never interfere with their professional personas. They were colleagues, co-workers, and sometimes friends in the eyes of the US Marshal's Office, not fiends who could barely stop to take a sip of Gatorade during one of their midnight trysts.


She tried to peer over him, but his shoulders filled the doorway and the more she stared at him the more she questioned her rational for saying no.

"What if Art comes down here...or..." She groaned, fully aware that her was resolve was evaporating, "Raylan with his nosey ass."

Tim advanced, fingers stretched, reaching for her even as she took one then two steps back.

"I told you no." Her voice faltered, "Just wait...later...when we...I get home..."

He held up a finger, "One kiss deputy Brooks." She had stopped moving and he continued to advance. "Then this Texas boy will go on his way."

Rachel shook her head in agreement.


She mumbled something about peer pressure and erased the negative space between their bodies.


They were both going straight to hell.


Rachel loved Tim's hands. They were skilled at more than loading and cleaning a rifle. His hands were soft and firm, and at the moment they rubbing circles at the small of her back, persuading her to take the rest of the day off, and get lost in him. She leaned back, quelling the need to lick the column of his neck. It was now or never, swap a little spit and head back to work.


"Just one kiss...that's it..."


She should have held her ground; one kiss with the man whose hands had drifted to her hips, could easily lead to two, ending with the pale pink notices on their desks, and Art's demands for them to high tail it to the unemployment office after their salacious display.  


Tim Gutterson kissed like his tongue was making love to her mouth.


Perfect...the word escaped her when his teeth pulled her bottom lip into his mouth.




That was it...precision...


He had explained it to her one night as they lay physically spent and tangled in her sheets. The training that saved his life in Iraq had been rooted in the concept of precision. She saw evidence of his commitment to the practice. It was obvious in the methodical way he traced the outline of her lips with breath, fingers, and tongue.


Rachel cried when his lips finally moved from her mouth... to her neck... to the valley between her breasts. His hands gripped the roundness of her bottom before he delivered a hard smack to each cheek. Her body responded and she cursed the wetness at her center. He went for the clasps of her pants and then the zipper.



The palm that molded to her skin and brushed against her mound forced the disagreement from her body. She relaxed and her requests soon shifted.
Instead of begging him to stop she was urging him to hurry up. Kisses were necessary to muffle the groans and moans that escaped as the co - workers stepped into their after hours role as lovers.

"We are so fired."

Rachel offered before biting down on his shoulder when his thumb brushed across her clit.

"Dammit!" Art's voice broke their concentration, "If I catch another one of my deputies down here like some horny assed teenagers I'm retiring."

The man covered his eyes as his direct reports worked to return to professional appearance and he vacated the premises still muttering about the days he used to get more ass than any marshal in the bureau.

"One more kiss?"

Rachel cut her eyes at Tim but granted his wish before escaping the cage and the temptation it held.

Chapter End Notes:

*Lust update no later than Saturday :)

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