Their Interlude

Disclaimer II: I'm sorry.


"Oh fuck!"

At that moment in time, Perry Cox couldn't have explained to anyone, including himself, how he had got into the position he was in, because as his blunt nails scraped against the smooth wall for any sort of hold, he found he couldn't actually think.

Barely keeping himself on his feet, Cox's expression was contorted into some strange merging of pain and pleasure, his eyes shut, brows knitted, lips parted; he could feel sweat on his palms and forehead. The room they were in smelled of antiseptic and bleach, but it was rapidly being overpowered by the distinct and heady smell of sex.

There was a hand on his hip, another one at the plaster, and a lean, hot body pressing up behind him, forcing Cox against the wall with each thrust, regardless of how much he struggled to keep himself balanced.

"Fuck!" Cox repeated, and he heard a breathy laugh behind him before he felt a hand move around to his front, grasping his straining erection, long fingers beginning to jerk him off in time to each thrust. A voice spoke, playful and teasing, too collected:

"You're always talking; if you don't quiet down, someone might hear you, Dr. Cox."

Despite the situation, Cox found it in himself to manage spite, as half-hearted as it was; he glanced just slightly over his shoulder, and said:

"Screw you,"

And then he felt a hand go to the nape of his neck, grasping, using the positioning as leverage to force Cox's body back harder, to go deeper, and suddenly there were sparks dancing in front of the burly doctor's eyes, growing brighter, and the hand on him squeezed just right.

And then he was coming hard, and he could simultaneously feel heat flooding inside of him, the hand on his erection spasming just slightly with the effects of orgasm, the final thrusts becoming less measured and more needy.

They both fell forward, and Cox found himself pressed once more between the wall and a body, and they stayed like that for a few long moments, both of them groaning, unwilling to shift from that position.

"We can't keep doing this," Cox rasped.

The response came a few moments later, rough with sex,

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me, look -" Cox said, beginning to push himself away from the wall, only to be shoved back again, a position that had, up until recently, been completely unfamiliar to the attending. He could feel a hand on his right bicep, another was grasping his left wrist, holding his palm to the wall, effectively keeping him there. Cox didn't have the strength to fight it right then, so he blinked into the wall.

"No, you look here, Doc. You can try and push me away all you want, but you know it isn't going to work. 'Cause i'm everywhere you are, all the time. It's easy for me to find you, and every time you see me, you're gonna think of this, and of the last time we did this. Probably the time before that, too."

"You got me by surprise that time -" Cox protested, but he was cut off by a hand going to his mouth; Cox had to resist the urge to do something immature, like bite the fingers.

"Got you by surprise this time, too. And i'll get'cha by surprise next time. I just like the goofy look on your face when you're startled. S'like a deer in headlights - only minus the headlights and antlers."

The hand moved away, and for a moment, Cox was silent, then he said:

"You're out of your mind."

"Eh, maybe a little."

Cox's pager went off, and he had to get his lab coat off the floor to find it;

"Gotta go." Cox said, pulling himself together in record time, rushing out and closing the supply closet door behind him. A few minutes later, the Janitor emerged and whistled a sprightly tune before tripping J.D. with his mop.