TITLE: HAZARDOUS, part I of II
AUTHOR: Scott J. Welles
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: f/f Slash
SPOILERS: Very definite ones. Takes place almost immediately after "Partly
Cloudy..."
RATING: NC-17. Even more so than my usual.
SUMMARY: What do you do after you've just become a hero? Claim "a hero's
reward," of course!
DISCLAIMER: All "ER" characters and institutions are the property of Warner
Bros., ConstantC Productions and Amblin Television. This is written
strictly for entertainment value, no infringement of copyright or ownership
is intended, and nobody is making a profit on this piece. As always, any
errors in continuity, characterization, or common sense are entirely my own
fault.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Scotty Says:
This one may be jumping the gun, since we still know very little about
the new gal; we don't even know quite what she looks like under all that
gear. So I made something up. We'll see how accurate I end up being.
Besides, this one seemed like a good opportunity to turn my usual Kerryfic
formula on its head... (I mean it, folks, in some ways this one's almost
the exact opposite of what I usually do!)
Further note: my Spanish is iffy, so feel free to correct me on some of
it.
As usual, DON'T READ if you're offended by f/f slash, but I hope you'll
enjoy this anyway!
SEND ALL COMMENTS (positive or negative) to scottjwelles@yahoo.com



Hazardous, by Scott J. Welles


Part One...

Keys in the door. Shake off the umbrella. Hang up the coat. Check the
mail. No, to hell with the mail; check it later. Pour a drink. Turn on
the stereo. She did all these things, same as she'd done a hundred thousand
times before, upon coming home. All preludes to sinking into her favorite
chair, tired in body, mind and spirit, before debating between dinner and a
bath, maybe some reading before bed.

None of that seemed right this time. She had every reason to be tired,
wrung out and exhausted, after the death-defying feats, bone-soaking chills
and heart-wrenching drama of the night. But...

The Mozart concerto wafting from her stereo speakers didn't feel right,
either. Kerry clicked over to the next compact disc, then the next, but
neither the New Age nor soft jazz did it either. With an impatient grunt,
she got up, pulled all three, and stuck in the first hard rock disc that
came to hand. Etheridge, 'Yes I Am'. She started it playing, random
selection, perpetual replay, and cranked it up.

Her body rebelled when she tried to sit back and relax; something very weird
was happening. She'd had plenty of experience coming home tired, sometimes
pleasantly satisfied with a shift gone well, more often frustrated and
pissed off at the antics and incompetence of the staff. Sometimes depressed
and demoralized at the tragedies she witnessed. And once, just once, so
lost and guilty that she'd been driven to seek comfort in the arms of a
woman she was coming to love in spite of herself. This was not like any of
those times.

It wasn't the first time her equilibrium had been thrown off by the job, by
a long shot. But instead of being crushed inward, imploded by misery or
horror, she felt like she was bursting outwards, her joints threatening to
come apart from the pressure. And strangest of all...it felt great.

Kerry found herself singing along with the title track, something she did
only in moments of giddy abandon. The last time she felt that good, she'd
been on her way to dinner with a friend who ended up being far more than a
friend. Looking forward to a night off the job. And now she was looking
back on a job well done.

The woman and her baby both lived. (yes) The paramedics and her student
all escaped without permanent injury. (yes!) She risked her own life,
saved lives against all odds, and walked away unhurt. (Yes!) Took the
worst of situations and achieved the best of all possible outcomes. (YES!)
Averted disaster, defied mortality, and won her victory. (Ohhh, yes...)

She wanted to be up on her feet. She wanted to run. She wanted to jump.
She wanted to climb to the top of the Sears Tower and scream out across the
skyline, her roars of triumph echoing between the buildings and through the
alleyways and vibrating down into the sewers.

"Yes," she said aloud, abandoning the song line, unable to contain herself
any longer. "Yes!" Throwing her fists up in the air. "Yes, yes, YES, YES,
YESSS...!!!"

The exultant whoop building in her throat was cut off by the abrupt pounding
on her door. Who the hell could that be at this hour? Her house was pretty
well insulated; only one neighbor was close enough to hear her music when it
was turned up, and he was stone deaf. Still caught up in her adrenaline
high, she jumped up, grabbing the crutch and double-timing it to the door,
spoiling for a fight with whoever dared to interrupt her good mood.
"WHAT?!" she snapped, throwing the door open.

Some Latino woman was standing there, dark, unruly hair dripping from rain.
Water beading on the shoulders of her leather jacket, worn open over a
desert-red shirt with pearly buttons and blue jeans tucked into worn cowboy
boots. Her already intense expression hardened at the sight of Kerry.
"There you are!" she exclaimed, pointing at the doctor.

Kerry caught sight of a bandage on the hand at the same time she recognized
the voice. "Oh...it's you," she said, moderately surprised.

"I'm glad you're up," the cowgirl snarled, her fists balling, " 'cause I
want to knock you down."

"You already have, remember?" Kerry retorted. "What are you doing here,
anyway? Shouldn't you be with a hand surgeon?"

"Don't change the subject!" the cowgirl snapped. "You and I have unfinished
business."

"Well, get inside while we finish it," Kerry sneered, waving her in. "It's
cold with the door open."

The firefighter stalked past her with barely-concealed aggression. Kerry
found her own hackles rising in response, but somehow even this unexpected
confrontation couldn't entirely dim her euphoria. If Fireman Frannie or
whatever her name was wanted a fight, Kerry'd gladly give her one and enjoy
herself in the process.

Kerry watched while her visitor glanced around impatiently, moving to stand
in the center of the room. "So what do you--?" she began.

"You had NO business playing hero in the middle of a fucking accident
scene!" the cowgirl exploded, spinning to jab a finger in Kerry's direction.

Kerry blinked, feeling her own temper building. "I had every business
there," she replied in a voice that anyone at County would have recognized
as the danger sign. "I'm a doctor."

"You're a goddamn imbecile!" The cowgirl's face was twisted with anger, her
teeth flashing as she spoke. "You ignored every rule of safety and jumped
into a total clusterfuck, and then you dragged that dumb-ass rookie in with
you!"

"Lay off him, he did all right," Kerry retorted. "And I didn't have any
choice; that woman and her baby would have died if I hadn't--"

"You're fuckin' lucky you didn't get all four of you killed!" The cowgirl
stepped closer, and Kerry backed up reflexively, bumping against the wall
behind her. "What the fuck were you THINKing, jumping into that
ambulance?!"

"Don't give me that," Kerry growled, her voice tightening warningly. "You
couldn't get the situation under control, so I did what I had to do." This
intrusive bitch was well within her personal comfort zone, and tonight she
reeeeally wasn't in a 'turn-the-other-cheek' mood.

"Yeah? Let's see YOU try to keep things under control with some loose
cannon who thinks she's a paratrooper jumping into a nest of live wires!
'Specially one who brought along her own personal lightning rod!" To
Kerry's utter astonishment, the cowgirl grabbed the crutch away from her
with her good hand and tossed it furiously into the hallway.

The intense, white-hot feeling flared up inside her, and she knew she was a
hairsbreadth from completely losing control. With every last scrap of her
iron will, she spoke softly and carefully. "You're playing with fire,
girl," she said. "I'll give you the only warning you'll get: don't fuck
with me tonight."

The cowgirl lunged forward, her uninjured hand slamming against the wall by
Kerry's head as she leaned in. "Or what?" she challenged.

Kerry surprised herself by finding still one more scrap. "Last chance," she
whispered, a knife's edge in her tone. "Get out of my house and out of my
face...or we're going for it."

"You want a piece of me?" The cowgirl craned her neck forward, the tip of
her nose bumping Kerry's. "Bring it on, hermana..."

Kerry lost it.

Just exploded.

She lashed out with both hands and her voice, throwing the firefighter back
a step, then launching herself off the wall to collide with the other woman
like a sumo wrestler, grappling and shoving. She might have won right then,
if not for her weak leg; it gave out, allowing the cowgirl to recoup.

Kerry felt herself practically lifted off the floor, and then she was
slammed back into the wall again, pinned against it by the other woman. She
twisted and writhed, cursing in two or three different languages, fighting
this woman who, momentarily at least, represented everyone who'd ever tried
to put her down or hold her back. Having tested herself earlier tonight and
succeeded, she wasn't rolling over and playing dead for anyone.

"Jesus, simmer down, Doc!" the cowgirl shouted in her face. With a
two-handed grip, she might have held Kerry firmly, but working with only one
hand -- she leaned her other forearm painfully against Kerry's other
bicep -- it was harder.

With a furious twist, Kerry pulled one hand free and got a fistful of the
leather jacket's collar, almost pulling her opponent off balance. She got
her other arm free, hooking it around the cowgirl's neck even as she pressed
her body against Kerry's, keeping Kerry pressed to the wall. Kerry's
fingers twined through dark, damp hair, pulling the cowgirl's head back and
eliciting a sharp grunt of protest. At the sight of the exposed throat,
Kerry's animal instincts kicked into full gear, and she struck with her
mouth, as though going for the jugular.

Her mouth filled with the salty-sweet taste of musky flesh, and her nostrils
flooded with the cowgirl's rich scent, a mix of adrenaline, perspiration,
and some sort of antibacterial soap. Biting and sucking at the woman's
neck, Kerry felt her own chest constricted between the cowgirl's and the
wall behind her back, her arms and legs hooking around the cowgirl's body,
pulling her closer... And then there was a fleeting moment of realization
when Kerry recognized that she wasn't feeling anger or hatred, but a very
different kind of passion altogether.

The cowgirl was still straining against her, but not fighting anymore. She
was swearing in Spanish, cursing Kerry and promising her all kinds of abuse
and injury, but her words were habit; her husky voice and taut body
indicated desires other than violence, perhaps more intense ones.

Kerry took the woman's face in her hands and pulled it towards hers. "Fuck
y--" she began, before their mouths were crushed together. The kiss was
fierce, all-consuming, as though they were lovers long-separated, reunited
at last.

Kerry tugged again at the leather jacket, but this time the cowgirl
cooperated, yanking it off her shoulders and arms, letting it fall away.
She had to ease up from Kerry as she did so, and Kerry could have squirmed
away, but she had no intention of doing so. She broke the kiss while her
fingers flew to the cowgirl's shirt collar and ripped it open, the pearl
buttons flying like bullets in all directions. She wore a white tank
beneath it, but no bra, the breasts within small but as firm as the rest of
her musculature. Kerry pushed the red shirt off and tugged the tank out of
cowgirl's waistband, her fingers flying to unbuckle her belt and upzip the
jeans, reaching inside, and...

"Wha...?" She felt something that she wouldn't expect to find on a woman.
Was she really a woman after all...? Kerry's eyes flew to the cowgirl's,
widening in surprise.

The cowgirl grinned fiercely at Kerry's expression, taking the opportunity
to pull Kerry's shirt up over her head, pulling her closer again, filling
Kerry's mouth with her hot tongue. Kerry sucked at it like an underwater
oxygen tube, the loud rush of breath from her nostrils matching her
visitor's. She clutched desperately at the cowgirl's shoulders, fingers
digging into her slick, warm skin.

Their mouths pulled apart again. "You like that?" the cowgirl whispered
huskily, before fastening her lips to Kerry's neck.

"Yes," she breathed, her voice failing her. "Oh, yes..."

Demanding lips found the hollow of her throat. "You want it?"

"I want you," Kerry blurted, pulling the cowgirl's head closer, her teeth
and tongue finding her unexpected lover's ear. "Oh god, I want you..."

Strong, clever hands, one clumsier than the other, unfastened her bra,
stripping it away, then the cowgirl's erect nipples, hard as thimbles, met
her own through the thin tank top. She felt strong teeth digging at her
neck, the bites verging on painful, but holding back just shy of the
threshold. Kerry's voice gasped audibly with each exhalation as hungry
kisses moved down her naked chest to her breast, sucking one nipple into the
cowgirl's mouth. Teeth pinched her nipple, sparking a yelp from Kerry's
throat, while the cowgirl's hands swiftly stripped off her pants and
underwear. She stepped out of them, kicking her shoes off. Naked except
for socks, Kerry pushed down on the muscular brown shoulders, urging the
woman lower, down over her stomach, past her navel, to her pelvis, and
then...

Kerry flung her head back and moaned deeply as that gifted tongue dove
possessively into her wet cunt, claiming her body's most private treasure.
She grunted and cried out, her body trembling convulsively, each subtle
shake of the cowgirl's head, each lick and thrust, driving her faster toward
an exquisite explosion. There was no question of making this last, though
Kerry would normally want it to go on at great lengths; it just wasn't an
option she had this time. She was as helpless before their mutual passion
as before a hurricane. When she came, she was so utterly out of control
that the very concept of 'control' became a completely abstract concept.
All she was aware of was the incredible burst of pleasure, the sweet,
invigorating rush of physical reward.

Still riding the high, she let out a long, slow sigh as the cowgirl slowly
rose to her feet again, never more than half an inch between their bodies.
The feel of the other's skin grazing hers thrilled Kerry no end.

The cowgirl -- Kerry felt she should know her name, somehow -- had somehow
shed her boots and jeans while pleasuring Kerry; now she stripped off the
tank, baring herself. Kerry caught only peripheral impressions of her nude
body, though, her eyes glued to the face in front of her own. It wasn't a
classically beautiful face, perhaps, but it was richly magnetic, fascinating
and strong. Those jet-black eyes seemed bottomless, like tunnels into
infinity.

Kerry had mere moments to contemplate the woman's face, or the taste of her
breath, before the cowgirl took possession of her body again, pulling it
against her own and kissing Kerry's mouth deeply. Their skin felt perfect
together, arms, legs, breasts, stomachs, lips, all molding together in
perfect harmony. Except... Between her legs, Kerry felt the unmistakable
phallic presence that seemed so incongruous on a woman. She let one hand
slide down the woman's smoothly muscled back to her rear, and her hand
encountered a waistband of rubber or latex.

Artificial, of course, she realized. But while her curiosity was satisfied,
the rest of her cried out for more.

Kerry felt strong, work-callused hands grip her ass, lifting her off her
feet, and she trembled with new excitement, knowing instinctively what was
coming next. Her lips left the cowgirl's, drawing in sharp breath as the
tip of the 'penis' nuzzled at her entrance. Her labia parted naturally as
the cowgirl eased her down onto the prosthetic, slow inch by slow inch. The
feeling of being penetrated, her orifice filled by its natural
counterpart -- or a reasonable facsimile -- was invigoratingly familiar.
Sex with Kim being as wonderful as it was, she'd forgotten how much she
enjoyed this part with men; she never entirely got used to it, and hoped she
never would.

It dawned on Kerry, in a fluke moment of rationality, that the cowgirl
shouldn't be supporting her weight with that injured hand. She wrapped her
legs around the woman's waist, and her arms around her neck, trying to take
some of the pressure off while still maintaining their mutual position.

Still leaning Kerry against the wall, the cowgirl smiled and made a small
surge of her hips, pushing her 'penis' into Kerry still deeper and sending a
pulse of glee through Kerry's body. "Chica loca," the woman half-whispered.
"Brava, muy bonita, pero loca en la cabesa..."

Kerry's own tremulous moan of pleasure drowned out some of her words as the
cowgirl slowly fucked her, showing no signs of being unable to hold her up.
She caught certain other words in breathy Spanish... words for 'wild,'
'flame hair' (her best guess, anyway), 'reckless,' 'brave,' and, she
thought, 'sexy'. Her own Spanish, learned from tapes in her spare time, and
practiced only infrequently on the job, couldn't follow everything her sweet
tormentor was saying, and it was driving her crazy trying to take it all in,
while, ah...taking it all in.

Putting her face right up against the cowgirl's, staring straight into her
eyes, Kerry bared her teeth and growled, "Toca la boca, y chingame..."

The mild flare of surprise in the woman's eyes quickly vanished as she rose
to the challenge, flexing her hips and driving into Kerry harder, faster.
Kerry cried out in response, her nails digging into her lover's shoulders as
she held on tightly.

There was a brief sensation of falling, with accompanying moment of panic,
but Kerry felt the cowgirl lift her away from the wall, guiding her body
down to the floor without dropping her. Then she was on her back, the faux
phallus still within her, the cowgirl's body covering her own, her feet
kicking in the air. They kissed again as the marvelous copulation continued
uninterrupted. God, this woman must have practiced a lot; she was as good
as any man Kerry had been with...

Kerry raked her tongue across the roof of the woman's mouth, feeling the
gliding, tingling sensation of the other tongue sliding beneath her own.
Her own voice sent vibrations through both their jawbones as she moaned,
again and again, in response to the friction of the prosthetic against her
most sensitive spots. Her heart pounded heavily, blood ringing in her ears,
as she knew that another orgasm loomed large in her future.

A particularly intense electric shiver ran through her, prelude to the
enormous climax, and she tore her lips away, sucking air and crying out, a
high, thin wail of primal joy. The cowgirl, only further encouraged, sat
back on her haunches, supporting herself with hands on the floor by Kerry's
head, and bucked her hips faster, thrusting Kerry into final approach.

Kerry turned her head to one side, her lips finding her lover's wrist and
latching onto it, her own fingers locating the cowgirl's nipples, kneading
and tugging at them. Her legs tightened about the woman's waist, clinging
to her like a bucking bronco...

Consciousness and clear thought became unstable as her senses overloaded.
She had an impression of convulsing, thrashing her head about, side to side,
screaming words or names she didn't know she'd forgotten, clutching
desperately at this woman (being amazed at herself for having sex on her own
living room floor with a gender-bending stranger, for crying out
loud...literally!) and then exploding into a dimension of ecstasy,
completely disoriented, lost and tumbling, falling, falling, drifting...

Yes, she thought, unable to form any concepts more sophisticated. Oh, dear
god, yes...

A warm, pliant weight settled over her body. Soft lips found her ear, the
tip of a tongue probing, warm breath tickling...

Then there was darkness. Not cold or empty, but safe, warm, tranquil
darkness...