Tactical Love

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Fletcher finally emerges to his career destination with the FBI for Special Agent training. When Fletcher realizes his feelings are mutual for FBI Special Agent Maddox, a tense attraction begins where the lines of professional divide collapse.

Romance / Erotica
Age Rating:

Day Zero

"F. Barron" A man in uniform calls out, beckoning you forward from your position in the rows of chairs. Down the line, you are handed uniforms, bedding, materials, even your pistol -- and the feeling in your stomach begins to turn into a fire of determination. Once everyone has been in the line, they take all of your fellow training team and sort you into dormitory style rooms where you have been given five minutes to get your exercise uniform on to begin the first round of testing processes.
Oddly enough, your roommate is one of your first and best friends from elementary school on. He had moved to Hawaii from California where you guys spent high school together when his parents were moved for their jobs in the FBI. You can't help but think that they maybe had some role in this, the two of you getting to stick together after all of these years, but you couldn't be more thankful to have a familiar face to help you along the way, especially friends who know each other so well.
"Come on man, let's so crush this shit." Tucker pulls his shirt down over his head, throwing an arm over your shoulder like you guys were back on the field together in high school. You both pull weighted vests on and strap your gun to your side, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself.
Sweat beads down the side of your face as you drench yourself in more water, realizing the last portion of the testing is just the mile and a half run. The gun fires and everyone begins the last stretch in the first day of training, no one leaving anyone else behind. You feel yourself huff, trying to maintain a steady pace the further along the course you move. The sun is blocked by clouds, small drops of rain beginning to form from the sky, hitting you in the face as you concentrate on the last stretch of the run, wiping the water from your sight as you continue on. Though it's behind dense clouds, the sun is still fierce with it's unforgiving heat that parades down over the faces of all the runners. A whistle blown as each runner crosses the lines is also marked by one of the trainers on the white paper attached to each runner, presenting the passing times on everyone so far. A pale and sweaty Tucker swats your back as he crosses the line after you, tossing water all over himself and clapping with pure enjoyment.
"Nice form." A deep voice, sweet like honey says, his breath hitting you in the forehead as you watch his toned arm write something against your chest. You finally allow yourself a second to steal a look at the familiar voice, realizing at once where you know it from as soon as your eyes clash upon meeting. A wicked grin spreads slowly across his face, carefully watching you.

His smile shows perfect rows of pearly white teeth, his scent of faint gunpowder and driftwood, there's something about him that you just can't pin into place. You're trying your best to be concealed, considering you start your Special Agent training tomorrow at five in the morning, and drinking in the bar the night before might not be the best place for anyone to find you, especially with such strict terms attached to everything.
"So what brings you to this area?" He asks, sloshing around the remainder of his drink in the glass, and gently setting it on the table between the two of you.
"Business." You say, clearing your throat, but still unable to completely take your eyes off of the stranger, his glance held with the darkness of your eyes.
"You're all business, aren't you Fletcher." He hums to himself, glancing between you and his glass. "Do you want to take a break?" His head cocks to the side, pure curiosity enveloping his face in a careful smile. You nod your head, feeling yourself lean over the table as Maddox does the same, pulling your chin into his hand, his lips meet yours and you feel yourself melt into him. He laughs into your mouth, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Let me give you a break." He moans hastily into your mouth and you feel short of breath. You taste him and you crave more, following his trailing hand from the crowd as you watch him take you behind him as he weaves in and out of people all around. He's all you can focus on.

"Miss me, Fletcher?" Maddox mumbles, intoxicating you with his proximity. Your breath catches in your throat and you feel his soft laugh vibrate around you. "You really are here on business, aren't you."
"Yes, sir." You say, staying level headed. You remember the feeling of his strong hand on your face and you keep your eyes directly under his stare. You remember how he felt under you, how he cried out your name. He didn't seem to be someone you could easily peg for working for the FBI, but then again anyone could probably say the same for you and here we are.
"Because I miss you." He growls softly under his breath, grabbing your arm on the way past you, giving it a squeeze before moving on to the next runner to be labeled.
"What the fuck was that?" Tucker says behind you, looking off into the direction that Maddox was, sticking his hands up in the air to mimic the trainer off in the distance. He growls at you playfully, rolling his eyes. "Do I even want to know how this happened?" He chuckles dryly, looking over to you.
"No, you don't." You say, running a hand through your hair, sweat pressing along the back of your head but your heart racing in your chest makes you think this is more due to Maddox and his superiority over you and less of the run you just finished. "You wouldn't believe me if I tried." You groan, tossing your face into your hands and taking in a sharp breath.
"Okay, try me." Tucker plainly says, crossing his arms. He gives a disapproving look, waiting for you to come up with something.
"Alright, fine. Listen, I couldn't sleep last night before we went out for breakfast after you called when your plane landed. Our Facetime with your parents about the training psyched me out. So I went out, I just wanted to catch some air. I ended up at some bar on fifth street and he was there. We talked, we hung out, and it was weird. He's so much warmer than I expected from someone who was going to be my fucking instructor for the most important part of my career to date." You shrug, defeated with the situation, and you hear Tucker trying to hold together a snort next to you, clearly enjoying this more than you are.
"It's worse if it was good, you know." He raises an eyebrow to you and you shove him further from you. "When you won't be able to deny him, always watching you sweat, waiting for a mistake." He whispers in your ear, trailing off with a laugh.
"Shut up, I don't need your bullshit right now, T." You scoff, wiping sweat from your brow as you take another drink of the water you've been assaulting in your fist the majority of the conversation. "This can't be happening, not to me."
"Oh but it is, my friend." Tucker kicks at the dirt on the ground around you as you glare against the sun in your face as more clouds move before the storm hits.
"I'll be back." You grumble, taking off before he can say anything else.
You make your way to the first building you come up on and swiftly navigate halls as you search for a bathroom, your stomach churning. Jumping up stairs two at a time, you make your way to the top and take a hard left, coming chest first into someone else. An arm straightens out in front of you, blocking you from moving as you back up a couple inches to look up.
"Maddox." You breathe out, watching him steady you against the wall. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." You stutter, clearing your throat as he gives you a once over.
"I'm not sorry. You're sorry?" He says critically, glancing down the hall in search of occupants. You shake your head, biting down against your lip as you feel him staring at you.
"No, I'm not. I'm not sorry." You breathe him in, longing to be back in bed with him, wrapped up together. Before he was your boss. His familiarity safe, but somehow something else lingered there too, a little bit of fear, you think. Maybe something about ruining the only job you've ever been interested in because of some new guy. Just some guy. Not, the guy. The one that you met without knowing your lines would cross in more than one way, that you felt something for immediately and now you're stuck trying to figure out how to piece this part of your life together. Yeah, no. Definitely not that guy.
He must feel something you feel and he pulls you aside into an office that he quickly locks behind the both of you, leaning against a large mahogany desk, scattered with ordered piles of paper, photos, and various other objects. "Hey." He leans into you, running a hand against your sweat soaked chest. "You okay?" He says, his lips pressing gently against yours as he comes back ever so slightly to watch you, his eyes gentle. The same warmth you saw when you first met.
"I don't want to get reprimanded, I can't lose this." You say, searching his eyes for something, for anything. He smiles, kissing you softly against the neck, humming. He breathes in, tracing the side of your jaw with his tongue.
"I promise, I won't let that happen. I can't lose you." He pleads with you, his facial features softening. "You're so special, Fletcher. That's why you're here, you know it." He says, kissing against your neck and you finally relax, turning to face him as he backs you up to the wall. You kiss him back, his hands searching all of your body as he explores every inch of you that he can take in.
He catches you off guard, and swiftly pins you against the wall, his leg between yours, putting you flush against the paint you breathe in, a gasp escaping your throat. "Welcome to training, Agent." He grabs your wrist in his hands, laughing against the back of your neck as he gives you one last kiss before heading out the door of his office, leaving you dizzy and out of breath. You straighten your shirt and walk down the hall opposite of where Maddox was headed.
You finally hunt down the door to your dorm again and find a napping Tucker. You quietly shut the door behind you and grab your things to shower. Your body loses it's tenseness the longer you stand under the hot water, your mind replays images of Maddox and you try to shake the thoughts off like the shampoo going down the drain.
The next morning, the sun is safely tucked away behind layers of storms that are passing by, but thankfully it's a classroom day anyway. You spend a great deal of hours looking at different types of evidence photos and crime scene investigation reports. One of the students breaks down as she recalls the murder of her brother thirteen years ago that stemmed her want to join something that could make her feel like she was working for her brothers voice. The group finds comfort in one another as they all give themselves way for a briefing with their friend. The class is something exceptional, that offers a perspective you didn't really think of until now. After a lunch worth skipping, you make your way out under the storm to the range, to begin some firearm training. More than half of the class has yet to have to fire or learn how to properly handle a gun. Though a short period, what feels like an eternity passes, and everyone is hitting right on target as you begin your initial training out here. It feels undeniably great.
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