CSI FIC: Erotic Reconstruction
I'm posting this slightly expanded version of my Porn Battle entry to my LJ.
Title: Erotic Reconstruction
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Catherine/Warrick
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Catherine and Warrick mix business and pleasure.
Notes: For the fifth Porn Battle.
It's not an arrangement. They never really talk about it. Just sometimes, Warrick will catch Catherine's eye, while they're going over evidence or eating lunch in the breakroom, some workaday moment, and then this look passes between them, secret and hot as live current, and Warrick knows. Tonight.
At the end of their shift, he follows her home, parks his truck up the block because who knows who might happen to drive by. Catherine will tease him later about this uncharacteristic display of caution. She waits at the door, and he takes the front walk in long strides, smiling a little wryly. The house is quiet inside, Lindsey away on an overnight school trip. Otherwise, they would have gone to his place. Catherine leads the way to her bedroom, nods toward the bed, and disappears into the bathroom. He strips off his clothes, throws back the covers and sprawls out. She likes him this way, spread out for her.
Catherine comes back, still wearing her lingerie, a filmy black camisole, tiny little panties, showing off her long, slender legs. This is the way he likes her. She just stands there for a moment, watching him, enjoying herself if that smile is any indication, and then she saunters over to the night table. She opens a drawer, and Warrick's heart speeds up when she takes out a harness, dildo, a bottle of lube. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he nods without hesitation.
She comes over to the bed, arranges him the way she wants him, on his belly, a pillow beneath his hips, one knee pulled up under him. She settles next to him.
"So what do we know?"
It's Catherine's work voice, cool, competent, words Warrick has heard a million times before, every time they reconstruct a crime together. Only now, it's personal, and Catherine's breath comes warm against his neck. What do we know skitters along his nerves.
It's one of Warrick's favorite games. He moans and pushes his hips into the pillow beneath him.
"He likes to be looked at." Catherine strokes a hand meditatively down his back.
Warrick feels the brush of lace against his side, a reminder that he's naked and she's not. He spreads his legs a little wider.
A dry little laugh, and she presses a kiss to his neck, her hair tickling. "She wants to tie him to the bed. She likes control."
Warrick's mouth goes dry. "He wants to give her control. He trusts her."
She guides his hands up to the headboard. His fingers instinctively close around the spindles. She lashes a silk scarf around his wrists, tight enough that he feels it, not so tight that he can't pull free if he wants to.
He won't want to.
Catherine strings kisses across his shoulders, probably leaving marks. "She likes knowing she can do anything."
Warrick shudders. "So does he."
The bed dips, and then Catherine is straddling him, her gentle weight on the small of his back. It pushes his hips harder against the pillow, holds him there, so he can't move, can't do anything about his aching cock.
"She's dreamed about riding him, and now she has her chance." Catherine rocks her body, the slip and slide of her silk lingerie against his skin, the hot-wet of her pussy beneath the fabric.
Cath! He has to bite his lip to hold it back.
Catherine glides down his body, her lips tracing his spine, his muscles, the swell of his ass. She works her hand underneath him, fondles his cock, just for a second, making him gasp. "He wants it." She sounds made of confidence.
"Yeah, yeah," he chants.
Catherine licks at the nape of his neck. "She likes giving him what he wants."
She moves away then, and for the first time, Warrick thrashes, making the headboard shake, desperate for her soft mouth, her warm, sweet curves.
She puts a hand on his shoulder. I've got you. Then there are fingers moving between his cheeks, cool and slick. The first touch against his hole makes him jump, and Catherine murmurs soft little shushing noises.
She circles her finger, teasing for what feels like forever, then suddenly pushes in. He yelps in surprise. She wiggles her finger, twists, explores, and then she's touching something that makes stars explode behind his eyes.
"He needs to be possessed," she says, adding a second finger, a third.
Warrick shakes his head. "He needs her to possess him."
She rubs her cheek against his back. He can feel her smile. Then she pulls away again, and there's a rustling noise. He looks over his shoulder. Her hair falls into her face as she adjusts the strap-on, thick cock jutting out from delicate hips.
"Catherine." So raw and breathless it doesn't even sound like his voice.
She gentles him with a kiss to the shoulder, then there's blunt pressure against his hole, pushing, pushing. His eyes water at the burning rush of penetration. Catherine holds his hips and works slowly, methodically until the cock is all the way in him.
"No, yes, please, please." Warrick has no idea what he's saying.
Catherine must, though, because she starts to fuck him, carefully, deliberately, owning his insides inch by little inch. She shifts her hips, and then there's that place again, and he's burning, burning, on fire. He humps the pillow, sweat stings his eyes, Catherine rakes her nails down his back. "Warrick."
"Please!" Like it's the only word he knows.
She fucks him harder, rides him just like she promised. He shoves his hips back, desperate noises streaming out of him, so close, so good. She reaches for his cock, jerks him hard and fast, and he's gasping, coming, falling.
Afterwards, she unties him, and he slips the strap of her camisole off her shoulder, kisses her breasts. He reaches inside her panties, pushes the heel of his hand against her clit. It doesn't take much before she's shaking and coming apart in his arms.
Catherine slumps over his chest, strands of hair sticking to her face. "She liked it."
Warrick grins. "So did he."
Title: Erotic Reconstruction
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Catherine/Warrick
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Catherine and Warrick mix business and pleasure.
Notes: For the fifth Porn Battle.
It's not an arrangement. They never really talk about it. Just sometimes, Warrick will catch Catherine's eye, while they're going over evidence or eating lunch in the breakroom, some workaday moment, and then this look passes between them, secret and hot as live current, and Warrick knows. Tonight.
At the end of their shift, he follows her home, parks his truck up the block because who knows who might happen to drive by. Catherine will tease him later about this uncharacteristic display of caution. She waits at the door, and he takes the front walk in long strides, smiling a little wryly. The house is quiet inside, Lindsey away on an overnight school trip. Otherwise, they would have gone to his place. Catherine leads the way to her bedroom, nods toward the bed, and disappears into the bathroom. He strips off his clothes, throws back the covers and sprawls out. She likes him this way, spread out for her.
Catherine comes back, still wearing her lingerie, a filmy black camisole, tiny little panties, showing off her long, slender legs. This is the way he likes her. She just stands there for a moment, watching him, enjoying herself if that smile is any indication, and then she saunters over to the night table. She opens a drawer, and Warrick's heart speeds up when she takes out a harness, dildo, a bottle of lube. She raises an eyebrow at him, and he nods without hesitation.
She comes over to the bed, arranges him the way she wants him, on his belly, a pillow beneath his hips, one knee pulled up under him. She settles next to him.
"So what do we know?"
It's Catherine's work voice, cool, competent, words Warrick has heard a million times before, every time they reconstruct a crime together. Only now, it's personal, and Catherine's breath comes warm against his neck. What do we know skitters along his nerves.
It's one of Warrick's favorite games. He moans and pushes his hips into the pillow beneath him.
"He likes to be looked at." Catherine strokes a hand meditatively down his back.
Warrick feels the brush of lace against his side, a reminder that he's naked and she's not. He spreads his legs a little wider.
A dry little laugh, and she presses a kiss to his neck, her hair tickling. "She wants to tie him to the bed. She likes control."
Warrick's mouth goes dry. "He wants to give her control. He trusts her."
She guides his hands up to the headboard. His fingers instinctively close around the spindles. She lashes a silk scarf around his wrists, tight enough that he feels it, not so tight that he can't pull free if he wants to.
He won't want to.
Catherine strings kisses across his shoulders, probably leaving marks. "She likes knowing she can do anything."
Warrick shudders. "So does he."
The bed dips, and then Catherine is straddling him, her gentle weight on the small of his back. It pushes his hips harder against the pillow, holds him there, so he can't move, can't do anything about his aching cock.
"She's dreamed about riding him, and now she has her chance." Catherine rocks her body, the slip and slide of her silk lingerie against his skin, the hot-wet of her pussy beneath the fabric.
Cath! He has to bite his lip to hold it back.
Catherine glides down his body, her lips tracing his spine, his muscles, the swell of his ass. She works her hand underneath him, fondles his cock, just for a second, making him gasp. "He wants it." She sounds made of confidence.
"Yeah, yeah," he chants.
Catherine licks at the nape of his neck. "She likes giving him what he wants."
She moves away then, and for the first time, Warrick thrashes, making the headboard shake, desperate for her soft mouth, her warm, sweet curves.
She puts a hand on his shoulder. I've got you. Then there are fingers moving between his cheeks, cool and slick. The first touch against his hole makes him jump, and Catherine murmurs soft little shushing noises.
She circles her finger, teasing for what feels like forever, then suddenly pushes in. He yelps in surprise. She wiggles her finger, twists, explores, and then she's touching something that makes stars explode behind his eyes.
"He needs to be possessed," she says, adding a second finger, a third.
Warrick shakes his head. "He needs her to possess him."
She rubs her cheek against his back. He can feel her smile. Then she pulls away again, and there's a rustling noise. He looks over his shoulder. Her hair falls into her face as she adjusts the strap-on, thick cock jutting out from delicate hips.
"Catherine." So raw and breathless it doesn't even sound like his voice.
She gentles him with a kiss to the shoulder, then there's blunt pressure against his hole, pushing, pushing. His eyes water at the burning rush of penetration. Catherine holds his hips and works slowly, methodically until the cock is all the way in him.
"No, yes, please, please." Warrick has no idea what he's saying.
Catherine must, though, because she starts to fuck him, carefully, deliberately, owning his insides inch by little inch. She shifts her hips, and then there's that place again, and he's burning, burning, on fire. He humps the pillow, sweat stings his eyes, Catherine rakes her nails down his back. "Warrick."
"Please!" Like it's the only word he knows.
She fucks him harder, rides him just like she promised. He shoves his hips back, desperate noises streaming out of him, so close, so good. She reaches for his cock, jerks him hard and fast, and he's gasping, coming, falling.
Afterwards, she unties him, and he slips the strap of her camisole off her shoulder, kisses her breasts. He reaches inside her panties, pushes the heel of his hand against her clit. It doesn't take much before she's shaking and coming apart in his arms.
Catherine slumps over his chest, strands of hair sticking to her face. "She liked it."
Warrick grins. "So did he."