your skin the republic my kisses founded (CSI: New York, Lindsay/Danny)
Title: your skin the republic my kisses founded
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing/Characters: Lindsay/Danny
Summary: Porn porn porn. Did I mention there was porn here? A total PWP fic.
Disclaimer: CSI:NY © Anthony E. Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn, and Ann Donahue & CBS. No copyright infringement intended.
Warnings: graphic descriptions of consensual sex
Notes: Written for schmoop_bingo for the prompt fire in the fireplace. My card here. Title taken from Sonnet XC
by Pablo Neruda.
Word count: 1,078
~*~
The room looked like it belonged in a penthouse catalogue and Lindsay wondered how Danny could’ve afforded the place. They weren’t exactly rolling in dough as crime scene investigators yet every time Lindsay had tried to ask Danny about the price of the cottage, he’d change the subject or tell her not to worry about it.
She had gotten out of the bath - feeling, well, like a fluffed poodle was the closest she could come to describing it - to find Danny gone. The whole week at the cottage had been lovely, just the two of them on their second honeymoon (or technically their first honeymoon as they never had one even after being married for two years) - the whole trip, in fact, made Lindsay wonder how she had gotten to this place, how had she gotten so lucky with a husband and a daughter whom she loved more than life.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing, sure, first with her reluctance to let Danny in, and then once she did almost losing him with the whole Rikki incident and then the not-hoping to have Danny give her everything because she was just a girl from Montana and Danny was Danny, and starting a family and almost losing that family because of a madman escaping from prison. She had no allusions that her job made her safe, but sometimes Lindsay questioned why she was still a CSI when she had everything to lose now, why she didn’t pack up and move away with Danny and Lucy. She did it once, she could probably do it again…except that wasn’t quite true. She and Danny were their job, they could move as far away from New York as geographically possible but they couldn’t run away from who they were.
There was no point rehashing all the terrible stuff, except to turn this wonderful trip into something depressing so Lindsay picked up her mystery book, flipping to her bookmarked place and lost herself again in the exploits of Lieutenant Eve Dallas, her partner Peabody and her gorgeous husband Roarke.
~*~
Sixty five pages later, Lindsay heard the door opening and rushed to greet her husband.
“Hey,” Danny said, rose-cheeked and feeling like frost to Lindsay when she kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“Was outside trying to get the car started.” Danny took off his coat and moved to the sofa in front of the gas fireplace, which was already blazing with a warm fire.
“Still can’t get it to start, huh?”
“No, I’ll try to figure out what’s wrong with it tomorrow since it’s already dark now.”
“Sounds like a plan, meanwhile….” Lindsay started taking off his sweater and then his shirt followed by his undershirt…until he was naked from the waist up. It made his forearm hairs rise in goose bumps and his chest and back shudder with the sudden warmth of the room and Lindsay’s hands roaming all over him.
He cupped her face and dove in with an enthusiastic kiss while Lindsay reached behind her to turn off the lamp she had been reading by. The whole room plunged into darkness, only the fire in the fireplace illuminating the two of them on the sofa.
“You know where we haven’t had sex yet?” she asked in the soft, sultry voice he associated as her bedroom voice.
“No, where?”
“On the floor.”
“Are you sure that won’t be hard on our backs? I know it’s carpeted and everything but it’s still a hardwood floor.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes at him, all the while peppering his neck with little kisses. “Danny, we’re not *that* old.”
“I know, all I’m saying is it’s no sofa or mattress…” his hand had crept under the terry cloth bathrobe she hadn’t changed out of and along her smooth thigh, massaging it a little before moving on to cup her breast. She went for his pants, unzipping the heavy denim and he stood up to accommodate her sliding off the jeans and boxers down to the floor.
Trading some more passionate kisses, Lindsay broke away to lay the heavy wool blanket that was draped on the sofa onto the floor, inches away from the fireplace as was safe to be with the roaring fire.
Danny followed her down, untying the robe to get at more glorious skin. And he really couldn’t help but send a silent thank you to whoever invented terry cloth bathrobes because really, it was a genius piece of clothing - so easy to tear off a person.
Lindsay knelt on the blanket, her rear facing him. He squirted the bottle of moisturizer from the nightstand onto two of his fingers, finger fucking her slow and gentle. The house was silent except for Lindsay’s moans. They hardly talked during their love making and that was fine with the both of them; Danny loved listening to Lindsay moan and Danny’s quietness Lindsay always associated with the rapt attention and focus he gave to everything, what made him good at his job, so having him quiet and attentive while he was doing that drove her wild.
He was bending over her and she was on her knees, just everything hanging out in the open and ready for Danny, and he braced his hands on her butt cheeks, sliding in and out, finding his rhythm. He bit his lip and just looked at her, and though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was biting her lip, eyes closed and jesus, she was so beautiful like this, beautiful every damn day and in every way, and there was nothing on his mind except her - an endless loop of LindsayLindsayLindsayLindsay in his head.
~*~
They could make it last and on this last day of their second honeymoon, with nothing around for miles, no testament to the kind of terrible things that awaited the world each day and them indirectly, they made love to each other every possible way; until they exhausted one another with climaxes and general touching of skin and penis and breasts and chests and torsos and feet and fingers and toned arms - parts and pieces of a whole that was adored by the other - and the talking and resting in-between.
And they fell asleep on the floor, naked, intertwined sweaty bodies lying beneath the blanket and the fire in the fireplace warming them, the only light in the room until dawn broke through the cloudy skies.
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing/Characters: Lindsay/Danny
Summary: Porn porn porn. Did I mention there was porn here? A total PWP fic.
Disclaimer: CSI:NY © Anthony E. Zuiker, Carol Mendelsohn, and Ann Donahue & CBS. No copyright infringement intended.
Warnings: graphic descriptions of consensual sex
Notes: Written for schmoop_bingo for the prompt fire in the fireplace. My card here. Title taken from Sonnet XC
by Pablo Neruda.
Word count: 1,078
~*~
The room looked like it belonged in a penthouse catalogue and Lindsay wondered how Danny could’ve afforded the place. They weren’t exactly rolling in dough as crime scene investigators yet every time Lindsay had tried to ask Danny about the price of the cottage, he’d change the subject or tell her not to worry about it.
She had gotten out of the bath - feeling, well, like a fluffed poodle was the closest she could come to describing it - to find Danny gone. The whole week at the cottage had been lovely, just the two of them on their second honeymoon (or technically their first honeymoon as they never had one even after being married for two years) - the whole trip, in fact, made Lindsay wonder how she had gotten to this place, how had she gotten so lucky with a husband and a daughter whom she loved more than life.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing, sure, first with her reluctance to let Danny in, and then once she did almost losing him with the whole Rikki incident and then the not-hoping to have Danny give her everything because she was just a girl from Montana and Danny was Danny, and starting a family and almost losing that family because of a madman escaping from prison. She had no allusions that her job made her safe, but sometimes Lindsay questioned why she was still a CSI when she had everything to lose now, why she didn’t pack up and move away with Danny and Lucy. She did it once, she could probably do it again…except that wasn’t quite true. She and Danny were their job, they could move as far away from New York as geographically possible but they couldn’t run away from who they were.
There was no point rehashing all the terrible stuff, except to turn this wonderful trip into something depressing so Lindsay picked up her mystery book, flipping to her bookmarked place and lost herself again in the exploits of Lieutenant Eve Dallas, her partner Peabody and her gorgeous husband Roarke.
~*~
Sixty five pages later, Lindsay heard the door opening and rushed to greet her husband.
“Hey,” Danny said, rose-cheeked and feeling like frost to Lindsay when she kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey, where did you go?”
“Was outside trying to get the car started.” Danny took off his coat and moved to the sofa in front of the gas fireplace, which was already blazing with a warm fire.
“Still can’t get it to start, huh?”
“No, I’ll try to figure out what’s wrong with it tomorrow since it’s already dark now.”
“Sounds like a plan, meanwhile….” Lindsay started taking off his sweater and then his shirt followed by his undershirt…until he was naked from the waist up. It made his forearm hairs rise in goose bumps and his chest and back shudder with the sudden warmth of the room and Lindsay’s hands roaming all over him.
He cupped her face and dove in with an enthusiastic kiss while Lindsay reached behind her to turn off the lamp she had been reading by. The whole room plunged into darkness, only the fire in the fireplace illuminating the two of them on the sofa.
“You know where we haven’t had sex yet?” she asked in the soft, sultry voice he associated as her bedroom voice.
“No, where?”
“On the floor.”
“Are you sure that won’t be hard on our backs? I know it’s carpeted and everything but it’s still a hardwood floor.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes at him, all the while peppering his neck with little kisses. “Danny, we’re not *that* old.”
“I know, all I’m saying is it’s no sofa or mattress…” his hand had crept under the terry cloth bathrobe she hadn’t changed out of and along her smooth thigh, massaging it a little before moving on to cup her breast. She went for his pants, unzipping the heavy denim and he stood up to accommodate her sliding off the jeans and boxers down to the floor.
Trading some more passionate kisses, Lindsay broke away to lay the heavy wool blanket that was draped on the sofa onto the floor, inches away from the fireplace as was safe to be with the roaring fire.
Danny followed her down, untying the robe to get at more glorious skin. And he really couldn’t help but send a silent thank you to whoever invented terry cloth bathrobes because really, it was a genius piece of clothing - so easy to tear off a person.
Lindsay knelt on the blanket, her rear facing him. He squirted the bottle of moisturizer from the nightstand onto two of his fingers, finger fucking her slow and gentle. The house was silent except for Lindsay’s moans. They hardly talked during their love making and that was fine with the both of them; Danny loved listening to Lindsay moan and Danny’s quietness Lindsay always associated with the rapt attention and focus he gave to everything, what made him good at his job, so having him quiet and attentive while he was doing that drove her wild.
He was bending over her and she was on her knees, just everything hanging out in the open and ready for Danny, and he braced his hands on her butt cheeks, sliding in and out, finding his rhythm. He bit his lip and just looked at her, and though he couldn’t see her face, he knew she was biting her lip, eyes closed and jesus, she was so beautiful like this, beautiful every damn day and in every way, and there was nothing on his mind except her - an endless loop of LindsayLindsayLindsayLindsay in his head.
~*~
They could make it last and on this last day of their second honeymoon, with nothing around for miles, no testament to the kind of terrible things that awaited the world each day and them indirectly, they made love to each other every possible way; until they exhausted one another with climaxes and general touching of skin and penis and breasts and chests and torsos and feet and fingers and toned arms - parts and pieces of a whole that was adored by the other - and the talking and resting in-between.
And they fell asleep on the floor, naked, intertwined sweaty bodies lying beneath the blanket and the fire in the fireplace warming them, the only light in the room until dawn broke through the cloudy skies.