FIC: Isolated Elements, 18/21, NC-17, Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Title: Isolated Elements
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox. You’ll note that there’s now a definite number of parts to this story, which means, sad to say, that all good things eventually come to an end of one sort or another.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
There was something about Gil - his composure, most certainly, but perhaps his erudition as well - which made Rupert want to reduce the man to a quivering mass of want and need. The fact that Gil was so very responsive made his task all the more easy.
Perhaps a little too easy, he realized, as Gil made a rather familiar strangled noise. Rupert grasped the base of his cock tightly enough to slow him down. “Not yet,” he whispered in Gil’s ear, biting down on his own lip to keep from smiling - very well, smirking - at Gil’s voiced displeasure.
After giving them both a few minutes to ease back from the brink, Rupert continued his taste test of one Gilbert Grissom, this time working his way along Gil’s chest. He dropped kisses, licks and nibbles in random fashion and absently noted which drew the greatest response and where. A casual swipe of his tongue around Gil’s left nipple had led to a grunt, whereas the same action on Gil’s right nipple had led to a muttered, “Please.”
The differing responses didn’t amuse Rupert nearly as much as how vocal Gil became given the right inducement - and Rupert fully intended to provide that inducement for as long and as often as possible. He looked up from his task. “‘Please,’ what, Gil?”
“Please, Rupert,” Gil said with a glare. “Please fuck me into the middle of next week.”
“We are in a state, aren’t we?” Rupert moved back up and kissed Gil before he could respond, taking the time to enjoy Gil’s kisses. During their first kiss, he had discovered to his everlasting glee that no matter what else Gil might lack experience in, he was damn good at kissing. Rupert reluctantly drew away from Gil’s mouth and whispered, “As it happens, I’m in a state myself.”
Gil’s muttered, “Finally,” was lost to yet another kiss. When Rupert backed away once more, Gil started to change positions then stopped. “How do you want me?”
“Every way possible.” Gil narrowed his eyes. Unable to resist, Rupert kissed Gil’s nose before answering, “On your side, facing away from me.”
Gil rolled his eyes then rolled onto his right side, asking, “Not on my knees?”
“I don’t know about you, but my knees are nearly shot these days.” Rupert grabbed the lubricant and a condom before settling in behind Gil.
“Hm. Good point.”
“And missionary is a position for the young and limber,” he added as he opened the condom packet, vaguely grateful that he remembered to do so before putting lubricant on his fingers.
“Another good point.”
Gil brought both knees up to his chest, causing Rupert to wonder if he should be worried that his partner chose to go into the fetal position just then. Rather than commenting, he tugged on Gil’s right leg so that it was straight and tucked Gil’s left leg up closer to the man’s chest. Rupert drizzled a bit of lubricant onto his fingers and ran them between Gil’s cheeks. As Gil tensed up slightly, he said, “Relax. You enjoyed this in the shower, and I promise you’ll enjoy it again.”
After a brief hesitation came the quiet admission, “It’s not your fingers I’m thinking about.” In another moment, he gasped as Rupert ran a finger along his perineum before stopping at his anus.
Rupert pushed his finger into the first knuckle, wiggling it a bit to loosen the tight ring of muscle. “At the moment, my fingers are all you need to consider.”
“Yes, but -”
He pushed his finger in a bit further, slowly and steadily increasing its movements. For the next few minutes, Rupert frigged Gil, taking care to keep a tight rein on his own enthusiasm. It was a difficult task, because every time Gil clenched around his finger, the motion was translated directly to Rupert’s cock.
~*~*~
Gil’s concentration had narrowed completely to Rupert’s finger and the obscene things it was doing to him and his self-control. In a desperate attempt to maintain even the smallest bit of command over his reactions, Gil started calling up random facts about the human body, only to lose track of them whenever Rupert moved his finger just so. It was a maddening itch, just shy of a burn. Though enough to stimulate Gil, it was nowhere near enough to provide relief, and a century or three passed before Rupert finally withdrew his finger.
Drawing in breath both to complain and to beg for more, Gil stopped short when his brain conjured up Lilah’s voice just then. He heard Rupert bite out a fairly vicious-sounding phrase in Latin, which was followed by - something - something that made all of Gil’s hair stand on end. Confused, he looked back over his shoulder.
“What -?” He was interrupted by Rupert’s kiss, and his question disappeared entirely as Rupert penetrated him with not one, but two fingers.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Rupert said a short while later, disrupting for the moment Gil’s ability to focus on anything else as he began to shift his fingers more quickly.
A few months ago - when Gil still had a brain that functioned - he’d overheard a quiet conversation between Warrick and Greg. They were in the locker room, comparing notes about various conquests, and the phrase, “Thought I was gonna die,” had been bandied about. At the time, Gil chalked the comment up to youthful enthusiasm, ignoring the fact that neither Warrick nor Greg was all that much younger. Now, though, that conversation returned in snippets, and Gil sent a silent apology to the two men for doubting them.
When Rupert’s fingers twisted at just the right angle, Gil couldn’t help but push back hard against his hand. He thought he might have told Rupert, “More,” but he wasn’t sure, and at the moment, he didn’t particularly care. What Gil did care about was the sudden absence of Rupert’s fingers.
He muttered something about Rupert’s ancestry and was answered with, “Just a little bit more -” And Jesus, Mary and Joseph, three fingers were there, twisting slowly to loosen Gil’s still tight muscle. The itch was back, though at times it felt closer to a tickle, and under that itch was a slow burn that was spreading outward.
“Fuck!”
The fingers slowed down, but they didn’t stop moving entirely. “What’s wrong, Gil?”
“Not enough! It’s not enough!” Gil stopped giving a damn about what was right and proper and reached down to grab his dick. Before he could act to relieve his need, Rupert’s fingers left him with a faint pop, and Gil’s hand was suddenly trapped against his belly.
Gil whimpered.
“Shhh. I’ll take care of that for you,” Rupert said with more than a hint of urgency. “Keep your hand there for a moment.”
Gil whined.
But he kept his hand where Rupert left it, because glory of glories, if he wasn’t mistaken, Rupert was, at long last, putting a condom on. Another flurry of motion and then Rupert’s fingers were back, this time with more lubricant. Before Gil could move back against them, though, something else was nudging at Gil’s entrance.
Rupert reached around and took Gil’s dick in hand and began to jerk him off. In a voice tainted with as much want and need as Gil was feeling, Rupert said, “Try to relax.”
It was - oh hell. It was nothing like Gil imagined. Rupert’s dick was too big - way bigger than three fingers - and Gil was going to end up with a ruptured - “Rupert?” Gil winced at panic in his voice.
“Hush.” A soft kiss was dropped on Gil’s shoulder, but Rupert didn’t stop his achingly slow push inward. “You’ll be fine in a moment. Please trust me?”
It was the broken way Rupert asked for trust that Gil heard and responded to, because yes, he trusted Rupert. And he was a bit ashamed that he hadn’t made that perfectly clear before now. He tried to explain, but all that made it out of his mouth was, “Do - do trust.”
~*~*~
Rupert bit down on his lip as he fought against his inclination to pound into Gil at the man’s mumbled assurance. Trust was a precious commodity in Rupert’s world, and to have it affirmed at such a time as this was almost more than his self-restraint could take.
“You feel so bloody good,” he bit out, pushing in just a little more. Rupert’s ability to issue further compliments was shattered when Gil’s ring of muscle, clenched for so very long, began to spasm around his cock. He bit down hard on Gil’s shoulder and thrust in for that final inch.
They both went still as soon as Rupert was balls-deep in Gil’s ass, each working to retain control as the morning silence was broken by their harsh breathing. When Rupert realized he could speak again, he told Gil, “I want you to bear down. It will make it easier for you.”
Gil nodded, his unquestioning faith an unexpected balm to Rupert’s soul, and did as he was told.
~*~*~
It was all Gil could do not to - “Sweet Jesus!” Bearing down helped a hell of a lot. Instead of fighting against the intrusion, Gil suddenly found himself aiding and abetting it with uncertain and uneven movements.
“That’s right,” Rupert breathed into his ear. “You’re getting the idea.”
Encouraged, Gil started moving with more assurance, and Mary, Mother of God, was Rupert jerking him off in time to his thrusts? He was, and God in Heaven, it felt good. Relief was on the way in the form of a hand that knew what it was doing.
Gil’s hips sped up as he tried to capture both sensations - being fucked and fucking Rupert’s hand - at the same time. A very small part of his brain pointed out that it was a lost cause, but it was a hell of a lot of fun trying.
Soon.
Just a little bit more pressure and friction was needed.
And if Rupert tried to stop his climax one more time, Gil would kill him.
~*~*~
Rupert heard that tell-tale noise emerge from the back of Gil’s throat, and he started speeding up his hand to help Gil finish. Those noises, those wonderful noises coming from Gil’s throat grew demanding, and Rupert was happy to oblige.
Gil went rigid just then, and Rupert, thinking he would milk Gil’s climax, was taken utterly by surprise when his own orgasm hit.
Part 19
Author: Tara Keezer
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Rupert Giles
Type: Crossover with Buffy: the Vampire Slayer
Summary: The best laid plans of criminalists and watchers sometimes go awry.
Author’s Note/Warnings: This story is set during the summer between S5 and S6 of Buffy and between S1 and S2 of CSI. One last note - the Grissom/Giles icons that will accompany each part were created for me by the delightful wickedfox. You’ll note that there’s now a definite number of parts to this story, which means, sad to say, that all good things eventually come to an end of one sort or another.
Feedback: Love it, want it, can’t get enough of it.
Disclaimer: As I’m neither Anthony Zuiker nor Joss Whedon, it’s a pretty safe bet that I own neither of the pretty men. If I did, though, if I did...
Part 1 can be found here. Links to subsequent chapters are found at the bottom of each posting.
~*~*~
There was something about Gil - his composure, most certainly, but perhaps his erudition as well - which made Rupert want to reduce the man to a quivering mass of want and need. The fact that Gil was so very responsive made his task all the more easy.
Perhaps a little too easy, he realized, as Gil made a rather familiar strangled noise. Rupert grasped the base of his cock tightly enough to slow him down. “Not yet,” he whispered in Gil’s ear, biting down on his own lip to keep from smiling - very well, smirking - at Gil’s voiced displeasure.
After giving them both a few minutes to ease back from the brink, Rupert continued his taste test of one Gilbert Grissom, this time working his way along Gil’s chest. He dropped kisses, licks and nibbles in random fashion and absently noted which drew the greatest response and where. A casual swipe of his tongue around Gil’s left nipple had led to a grunt, whereas the same action on Gil’s right nipple had led to a muttered, “Please.”
The differing responses didn’t amuse Rupert nearly as much as how vocal Gil became given the right inducement - and Rupert fully intended to provide that inducement for as long and as often as possible. He looked up from his task. “‘Please,’ what, Gil?”
“Please, Rupert,” Gil said with a glare. “Please fuck me into the middle of next week.”
“We are in a state, aren’t we?” Rupert moved back up and kissed Gil before he could respond, taking the time to enjoy Gil’s kisses. During their first kiss, he had discovered to his everlasting glee that no matter what else Gil might lack experience in, he was damn good at kissing. Rupert reluctantly drew away from Gil’s mouth and whispered, “As it happens, I’m in a state myself.”
Gil’s muttered, “Finally,” was lost to yet another kiss. When Rupert backed away once more, Gil started to change positions then stopped. “How do you want me?”
“Every way possible.” Gil narrowed his eyes. Unable to resist, Rupert kissed Gil’s nose before answering, “On your side, facing away from me.”
Gil rolled his eyes then rolled onto his right side, asking, “Not on my knees?”
“I don’t know about you, but my knees are nearly shot these days.” Rupert grabbed the lubricant and a condom before settling in behind Gil.
“Hm. Good point.”
“And missionary is a position for the young and limber,” he added as he opened the condom packet, vaguely grateful that he remembered to do so before putting lubricant on his fingers.
“Another good point.”
Gil brought both knees up to his chest, causing Rupert to wonder if he should be worried that his partner chose to go into the fetal position just then. Rather than commenting, he tugged on Gil’s right leg so that it was straight and tucked Gil’s left leg up closer to the man’s chest. Rupert drizzled a bit of lubricant onto his fingers and ran them between Gil’s cheeks. As Gil tensed up slightly, he said, “Relax. You enjoyed this in the shower, and I promise you’ll enjoy it again.”
After a brief hesitation came the quiet admission, “It’s not your fingers I’m thinking about.” In another moment, he gasped as Rupert ran a finger along his perineum before stopping at his anus.
Rupert pushed his finger into the first knuckle, wiggling it a bit to loosen the tight ring of muscle. “At the moment, my fingers are all you need to consider.”
“Yes, but -”
He pushed his finger in a bit further, slowly and steadily increasing its movements. For the next few minutes, Rupert frigged Gil, taking care to keep a tight rein on his own enthusiasm. It was a difficult task, because every time Gil clenched around his finger, the motion was translated directly to Rupert’s cock.
~*~*~
Gil’s concentration had narrowed completely to Rupert’s finger and the obscene things it was doing to him and his self-control. In a desperate attempt to maintain even the smallest bit of command over his reactions, Gil started calling up random facts about the human body, only to lose track of them whenever Rupert moved his finger just so. It was a maddening itch, just shy of a burn. Though enough to stimulate Gil, it was nowhere near enough to provide relief, and a century or three passed before Rupert finally withdrew his finger.
Drawing in breath both to complain and to beg for more, Gil stopped short when his brain conjured up Lilah’s voice just then. He heard Rupert bite out a fairly vicious-sounding phrase in Latin, which was followed by - something - something that made all of Gil’s hair stand on end. Confused, he looked back over his shoulder.
“What -?” He was interrupted by Rupert’s kiss, and his question disappeared entirely as Rupert penetrated him with not one, but two fingers.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Rupert said a short while later, disrupting for the moment Gil’s ability to focus on anything else as he began to shift his fingers more quickly.
A few months ago - when Gil still had a brain that functioned - he’d overheard a quiet conversation between Warrick and Greg. They were in the locker room, comparing notes about various conquests, and the phrase, “Thought I was gonna die,” had been bandied about. At the time, Gil chalked the comment up to youthful enthusiasm, ignoring the fact that neither Warrick nor Greg was all that much younger. Now, though, that conversation returned in snippets, and Gil sent a silent apology to the two men for doubting them.
When Rupert’s fingers twisted at just the right angle, Gil couldn’t help but push back hard against his hand. He thought he might have told Rupert, “More,” but he wasn’t sure, and at the moment, he didn’t particularly care. What Gil did care about was the sudden absence of Rupert’s fingers.
He muttered something about Rupert’s ancestry and was answered with, “Just a little bit more -” And Jesus, Mary and Joseph, three fingers were there, twisting slowly to loosen Gil’s still tight muscle. The itch was back, though at times it felt closer to a tickle, and under that itch was a slow burn that was spreading outward.
“Fuck!”
The fingers slowed down, but they didn’t stop moving entirely. “What’s wrong, Gil?”
“Not enough! It’s not enough!” Gil stopped giving a damn about what was right and proper and reached down to grab his dick. Before he could act to relieve his need, Rupert’s fingers left him with a faint pop, and Gil’s hand was suddenly trapped against his belly.
Gil whimpered.
“Shhh. I’ll take care of that for you,” Rupert said with more than a hint of urgency. “Keep your hand there for a moment.”
Gil whined.
But he kept his hand where Rupert left it, because glory of glories, if he wasn’t mistaken, Rupert was, at long last, putting a condom on. Another flurry of motion and then Rupert’s fingers were back, this time with more lubricant. Before Gil could move back against them, though, something else was nudging at Gil’s entrance.
Rupert reached around and took Gil’s dick in hand and began to jerk him off. In a voice tainted with as much want and need as Gil was feeling, Rupert said, “Try to relax.”
It was - oh hell. It was nothing like Gil imagined. Rupert’s dick was too big - way bigger than three fingers - and Gil was going to end up with a ruptured - “Rupert?” Gil winced at panic in his voice.
“Hush.” A soft kiss was dropped on Gil’s shoulder, but Rupert didn’t stop his achingly slow push inward. “You’ll be fine in a moment. Please trust me?”
It was the broken way Rupert asked for trust that Gil heard and responded to, because yes, he trusted Rupert. And he was a bit ashamed that he hadn’t made that perfectly clear before now. He tried to explain, but all that made it out of his mouth was, “Do - do trust.”
~*~*~
Rupert bit down on his lip as he fought against his inclination to pound into Gil at the man’s mumbled assurance. Trust was a precious commodity in Rupert’s world, and to have it affirmed at such a time as this was almost more than his self-restraint could take.
“You feel so bloody good,” he bit out, pushing in just a little more. Rupert’s ability to issue further compliments was shattered when Gil’s ring of muscle, clenched for so very long, began to spasm around his cock. He bit down hard on Gil’s shoulder and thrust in for that final inch.
They both went still as soon as Rupert was balls-deep in Gil’s ass, each working to retain control as the morning silence was broken by their harsh breathing. When Rupert realized he could speak again, he told Gil, “I want you to bear down. It will make it easier for you.”
Gil nodded, his unquestioning faith an unexpected balm to Rupert’s soul, and did as he was told.
~*~*~
It was all Gil could do not to - “Sweet Jesus!” Bearing down helped a hell of a lot. Instead of fighting against the intrusion, Gil suddenly found himself aiding and abetting it with uncertain and uneven movements.
“That’s right,” Rupert breathed into his ear. “You’re getting the idea.”
Encouraged, Gil started moving with more assurance, and Mary, Mother of God, was Rupert jerking him off in time to his thrusts? He was, and God in Heaven, it felt good. Relief was on the way in the form of a hand that knew what it was doing.
Gil’s hips sped up as he tried to capture both sensations - being fucked and fucking Rupert’s hand - at the same time. A very small part of his brain pointed out that it was a lost cause, but it was a hell of a lot of fun trying.
Soon.
Just a little bit more pressure and friction was needed.
And if Rupert tried to stop his climax one more time, Gil would kill him.
~*~*~
Rupert heard that tell-tale noise emerge from the back of Gil’s throat, and he started speeding up his hand to help Gil finish. Those noises, those wonderful noises coming from Gil’s throat grew demanding, and Rupert was happy to oblige.
Gil went rigid just then, and Rupert, thinking he would milk Gil’s climax, was taken utterly by surprise when his own orgasm hit.
Part 19