CSI fic: "Human, On My Faithless Arm" Gil/Jim, part 4
Many thanks, as always, to my beta, slashmommy.
Story is behind the cut. :)
Human, On My Faithless Arm, Part 4
By Joanne Soper-Cook
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Jim/Gil
Genre: Angst
Rating: NC-17, for frank discussion of m/m sexual fantasy
Warnings: None
Spoilers: reference to the episode "Ellie"
Jim woke to find Gil standing by the bed. "Hey."
"I have to go," Gil said. He was fully dressed, holding his car keys.
It suddenly occurred to Jim what that meant. "Uh, okay. Right, yeah. Well,
hey.thanks for everything you've done. I really appreciate it. I'll see
you around, huh?"
Gil was smiling. "Jim."
"Yeah?"
"I'm coming back."
Jim felt himself blushing. "Of course. Yeah, I knew that."
Gil sat on the bed; his hand strayed to Jim's cheek, caressing him. They
had spent the night sleeping in each other's arms. Grissom had seldom felt
so safe; it was very odd. "I'm just going to my place to get some stuff .
toothbrush, change of underwear."
"You haven't changed your underwear?"
Grissom rolled his eyes. "Very amusing." He kissed Jim's forehead. "I'll
be back as soon as I can, alright? I want you to rest." He smiled
indulgently. "If you're good, you can watch Cops later on."
"Ooooh, thanks, Mom."
Grissom locked the door behind him and started out into the morning
sunlight. He flicked open his cellphone as he drove, dialled the lab.
Nicky picked up. "Hey, Griss! What's happening?"
"Just on my way home."
"Home?" There was a pause on the other end. "You and Jim have a fight?"
"No, Nicky, we did not have a fight." Grissom chuckled. "I can just
imagine the gossip around the lab."
"Man, you should be here. Hodges thinks you and Jim are shacking up.
Couple of the lab techs told Warrick they saw the Captain at a gay bar on
the Strip."
"Jim? At a gay bar." Grissom tried, but couldn't picture Jim on the dance
floor, shaking his ass. It was simply too incongruous an image. "Right. Any news?" he asked. "Besides what Jim and I are doing," he amended.
"Nothing much. Catherine's got everything under control. Me and Warrick
and Bobby are going to the softball field later on, toss the ball around.
We got that game coming up, you know, against Day Shift?"
"Kick their asses," Grissom said.
"You're not gonna be there?"
"I'd rather not leave Jim if I can help it."
"Oh." Nicky's voice acquired the teasing note that Grissom . and the
others . knew so well. "Two of you have really bonded, huh?"
"Very funny, Nick." He stopped for a red light. "Listen, I'll try and stop
by later on. Can't make any promises. Catherine knows where to find me if
she needs me."
"You take as much time as you need," Nick replied. He bit back a chuckle.
"I know you two lovebirds want to be alone."
"Keep it up, Nicky, and you'll be alone. On welfare."
"Talk atcha later, Boss." The Texan rang off.
Grissom pulled into his driveway and shut off the Tahoe. His own footsteps
seemed to ring unnaturally loud on the sidewalk. He opened his front door,
bending to collect the mail that had dropped through the slot: bills,
various sale flyers and circulars, the latest copy of National Geographic.
He dropped the whole lot onto the kitchen table and went through to the
bedroom; the room smelled musty from disuse and the curtains were drawn
tight over the windows. Jeez . who knew he'd developed such reclusive
habits? He yanked the drapes open, smiling as the morning sunlight spilled
over the bed. He made a mental note to clear the place out a bit, as soon
as Jim was back on his feet -.open up the windows and let some air in,
toss out the accumulation of clutter that was grouped around the foot of
the bed.
//You're letting him in.//
The voice was nearly audible; it sounded inside his head like a clangor of
warning. He shook it off, went to retrieve his overnight bag from the
closet.
//Are you sure this is the right thing to do?//
"Great, now I'm hearing voices," he murmured. He opened the dresser
drawers and selected socks, underwear, the pajama bottoms he habitually
wore to bed.
//You'll get too attached to him and then he'll leave you for someone younger, someone better looking than you. What do you have to offer him?//
"Shut up." He shook it off, put everything in the bag. Jim needed him, and
he was glad enough to be needed. If letting someone into his life entailed
a risk, then perhaps it was a risk he needed to take. He stood in the
middle of his empty house for a moment, listening to himself breathe. He
checked his answering machine but there were no messages. He'd made a life
for himself, true, but it was a sterile life, a very empty life with no
one in it but him. He saw his future stretching in front of him like a
vast, desert plain, and it frightened him. Where would he be, twenty years
from now? Unless something changed in a very concrete way, he'd be exactly
where he was right now: standing in an empty house, surrounded by dead
butterflies and old magazines.
Jim had fallen asleep almost immediately after Grissom had left; the
surgery had left him wrung out and exhausted. Grissom had checked his
incision the night before and redressed it; the stitches had ceased to pull at the surrounding
skin, but the itching was worse than ever. He was getting very tired of it
all, which Grissom said was a good sign: it meant he was on the mend. For
Jim it was frustrating, having to confine himself to cuddling and kissing.
Some part of him understood that the logical progression of their personal
time was sex, and he wanted that . he wanted it very much, probably more
than Grissom did. But his body wasn't ready for it, at least not yet,
which pissed him off. He hated waiting.
'Don't be so impatient,' Grissom had said. They had been watching t.v.
together, Jim lying in Gil's arms; they spent a lot of time kissing during
commercials. 'We'll get there.' It wasn't enough: Jim wanted the whole
pie, not the measly little slices he'd been getting.
'I don't think you get it,' Jim had said. Grissom didn't wait for the next
commercial: he kissed Jim breathless, then nibbled and licked and sucked
his way down the detective's torso to the waistband of his pajamas.
'I get it,' a breathless Grissom told him. 'Believe me, Jim. I get it.'
Jim had guided Gil's hand to his straining erection. 'You're gonna get
it,' he amended, 'maybe sooner than you think.' Ever since then, his
dreams had taken on a highly erotic quality, almost like his body was
getting him ready. He frequently awakened with a wet abdomen, having spent himself in dreams of being fellated by Grissom in the back of the Tahoe, or fucking in the shower. He plastered himself to Gil in sleep, legs wrapped around him, arms holding tight while
his erection pressed against Gil's buttocks. Recently - a delicious memory
- he'd awakened right on the point of coming, and Gil, sensing some change
in his breathing, had reached over and clasped his cock, stroking him
gently through his pajamas. He came so hard he saw stars, literally; then
he was embarrassed that he'd gotten off while Gil was still frustrated.
'The waiting will make it that much sweeter,' Grissom said. 'Trust me.'
'I don't know how much longer I can take this,' Jim said. 'You're killing
me.'
He was asleep now and dreaming, dreaming of lying naked with Gil on a
deserted beach, their bodies oiled, slick and warm. The entire surface of
his skin was exquisitely sensitive, and every touch resonated like a
drumbeat. He parted his legs in response to Gil's questing fingers,
moaning deep in his throat as Gil touched and stroked him, caressing his
balls and the slippery head of his cock. His thighs shivered as Gil's
mouth fastened onto him, sucking powerfully, drawing him deep into his
lover's throat while the hot sun beat down on them, warming Jim to the
marrow of his bones. He was poised on the edge, every nerve and muscle
taut and straining, his hands grasping great fistfuls of warm sand. 'Oh
baby,' he heard himself whisper. 'Dammit, Gil, I love you.'
His head whiplashed back into the pillows as he came, spending himself in
great, jagged spurts; he awoke and he was still coming, throbbing his
essence into the sheets like some callow boy. His body shuddered through
the aftershocks, as small bolts of pleasure twanged in the soles of his
feet.
He lay very still, gasping, the room a blur around him. "I gotta get
laid." He eased himself up and out of bed, and stripped off his semen-damp
pajamas in the bathroom. He peeled back the dressing and examined his
wound, peering at the stitches. It looked to be healing nicely, as far as he could tell. The doctor had warned him to be careful of illness and infection, though . apparently not having a
spleen sometimes resulted in compromised immunity. He'd have to look that
up. He washed himself and deposited the pajamas in the laundry hamper.
Maybe Nicky and the others could come by with the ALS and check for semen.
He laughed out loud. They'd think he and Gil had been going at it like rabbits.
He went through to the bedroom and found a clean pair of pajama bottoms
and pulled them on; the cotton fabric chafed the head of his cock and his
arousal grew hot in the base of his belly. He sighed: where the hell was
Gil? What was taking him so long? The phone rang and he reached for it,
fitted the receiver to his ear. "Brass."
There was a long silence. And then a voice at the other end, a voice he
thought he'd never hear again.
"Daddy?"
To be continued...
Story is behind the cut. :)
Human, On My Faithless Arm, Part 4
By Joanne Soper-Cook
Fandom: CSI
Pairing: Jim/Gil
Genre: Angst
Rating: NC-17, for frank discussion of m/m sexual fantasy
Warnings: None
Spoilers: reference to the episode "Ellie"
Jim woke to find Gil standing by the bed. "Hey."
"I have to go," Gil said. He was fully dressed, holding his car keys.
It suddenly occurred to Jim what that meant. "Uh, okay. Right, yeah. Well,
hey.thanks for everything you've done. I really appreciate it. I'll see
you around, huh?"
Gil was smiling. "Jim."
"Yeah?"
"I'm coming back."
Jim felt himself blushing. "Of course. Yeah, I knew that."
Gil sat on the bed; his hand strayed to Jim's cheek, caressing him. They
had spent the night sleeping in each other's arms. Grissom had seldom felt
so safe; it was very odd. "I'm just going to my place to get some stuff .
toothbrush, change of underwear."
"You haven't changed your underwear?"
Grissom rolled his eyes. "Very amusing." He kissed Jim's forehead. "I'll
be back as soon as I can, alright? I want you to rest." He smiled
indulgently. "If you're good, you can watch Cops later on."
"Ooooh, thanks, Mom."
Grissom locked the door behind him and started out into the morning
sunlight. He flicked open his cellphone as he drove, dialled the lab.
Nicky picked up. "Hey, Griss! What's happening?"
"Just on my way home."
"Home?" There was a pause on the other end. "You and Jim have a fight?"
"No, Nicky, we did not have a fight." Grissom chuckled. "I can just
imagine the gossip around the lab."
"Man, you should be here. Hodges thinks you and Jim are shacking up.
Couple of the lab techs told Warrick they saw the Captain at a gay bar on
the Strip."
"Jim? At a gay bar." Grissom tried, but couldn't picture Jim on the dance
floor, shaking his ass. It was simply too incongruous an image. "Right. Any news?" he asked. "Besides what Jim and I are doing," he amended.
"Nothing much. Catherine's got everything under control. Me and Warrick
and Bobby are going to the softball field later on, toss the ball around.
We got that game coming up, you know, against Day Shift?"
"Kick their asses," Grissom said.
"You're not gonna be there?"
"I'd rather not leave Jim if I can help it."
"Oh." Nicky's voice acquired the teasing note that Grissom . and the
others . knew so well. "Two of you have really bonded, huh?"
"Very funny, Nick." He stopped for a red light. "Listen, I'll try and stop
by later on. Can't make any promises. Catherine knows where to find me if
she needs me."
"You take as much time as you need," Nick replied. He bit back a chuckle.
"I know you two lovebirds want to be alone."
"Keep it up, Nicky, and you'll be alone. On welfare."
"Talk atcha later, Boss." The Texan rang off.
Grissom pulled into his driveway and shut off the Tahoe. His own footsteps
seemed to ring unnaturally loud on the sidewalk. He opened his front door,
bending to collect the mail that had dropped through the slot: bills,
various sale flyers and circulars, the latest copy of National Geographic.
He dropped the whole lot onto the kitchen table and went through to the
bedroom; the room smelled musty from disuse and the curtains were drawn
tight over the windows. Jeez . who knew he'd developed such reclusive
habits? He yanked the drapes open, smiling as the morning sunlight spilled
over the bed. He made a mental note to clear the place out a bit, as soon
as Jim was back on his feet -.open up the windows and let some air in,
toss out the accumulation of clutter that was grouped around the foot of
the bed.
//You're letting him in.//
The voice was nearly audible; it sounded inside his head like a clangor of
warning. He shook it off, went to retrieve his overnight bag from the
closet.
//Are you sure this is the right thing to do?//
"Great, now I'm hearing voices," he murmured. He opened the dresser
drawers and selected socks, underwear, the pajama bottoms he habitually
wore to bed.
//You'll get too attached to him and then he'll leave you for someone younger, someone better looking than you. What do you have to offer him?//
"Shut up." He shook it off, put everything in the bag. Jim needed him, and
he was glad enough to be needed. If letting someone into his life entailed
a risk, then perhaps it was a risk he needed to take. He stood in the
middle of his empty house for a moment, listening to himself breathe. He
checked his answering machine but there were no messages. He'd made a life
for himself, true, but it was a sterile life, a very empty life with no
one in it but him. He saw his future stretching in front of him like a
vast, desert plain, and it frightened him. Where would he be, twenty years
from now? Unless something changed in a very concrete way, he'd be exactly
where he was right now: standing in an empty house, surrounded by dead
butterflies and old magazines.
Jim had fallen asleep almost immediately after Grissom had left; the
surgery had left him wrung out and exhausted. Grissom had checked his
incision the night before and redressed it; the stitches had ceased to pull at the surrounding
skin, but the itching was worse than ever. He was getting very tired of it
all, which Grissom said was a good sign: it meant he was on the mend. For
Jim it was frustrating, having to confine himself to cuddling and kissing.
Some part of him understood that the logical progression of their personal
time was sex, and he wanted that . he wanted it very much, probably more
than Grissom did. But his body wasn't ready for it, at least not yet,
which pissed him off. He hated waiting.
'Don't be so impatient,' Grissom had said. They had been watching t.v.
together, Jim lying in Gil's arms; they spent a lot of time kissing during
commercials. 'We'll get there.' It wasn't enough: Jim wanted the whole
pie, not the measly little slices he'd been getting.
'I don't think you get it,' Jim had said. Grissom didn't wait for the next
commercial: he kissed Jim breathless, then nibbled and licked and sucked
his way down the detective's torso to the waistband of his pajamas.
'I get it,' a breathless Grissom told him. 'Believe me, Jim. I get it.'
Jim had guided Gil's hand to his straining erection. 'You're gonna get
it,' he amended, 'maybe sooner than you think.' Ever since then, his
dreams had taken on a highly erotic quality, almost like his body was
getting him ready. He frequently awakened with a wet abdomen, having spent himself in dreams of being fellated by Grissom in the back of the Tahoe, or fucking in the shower. He plastered himself to Gil in sleep, legs wrapped around him, arms holding tight while
his erection pressed against Gil's buttocks. Recently - a delicious memory
- he'd awakened right on the point of coming, and Gil, sensing some change
in his breathing, had reached over and clasped his cock, stroking him
gently through his pajamas. He came so hard he saw stars, literally; then
he was embarrassed that he'd gotten off while Gil was still frustrated.
'The waiting will make it that much sweeter,' Grissom said. 'Trust me.'
'I don't know how much longer I can take this,' Jim said. 'You're killing
me.'
He was asleep now and dreaming, dreaming of lying naked with Gil on a
deserted beach, their bodies oiled, slick and warm. The entire surface of
his skin was exquisitely sensitive, and every touch resonated like a
drumbeat. He parted his legs in response to Gil's questing fingers,
moaning deep in his throat as Gil touched and stroked him, caressing his
balls and the slippery head of his cock. His thighs shivered as Gil's
mouth fastened onto him, sucking powerfully, drawing him deep into his
lover's throat while the hot sun beat down on them, warming Jim to the
marrow of his bones. He was poised on the edge, every nerve and muscle
taut and straining, his hands grasping great fistfuls of warm sand. 'Oh
baby,' he heard himself whisper. 'Dammit, Gil, I love you.'
His head whiplashed back into the pillows as he came, spending himself in
great, jagged spurts; he awoke and he was still coming, throbbing his
essence into the sheets like some callow boy. His body shuddered through
the aftershocks, as small bolts of pleasure twanged in the soles of his
feet.
He lay very still, gasping, the room a blur around him. "I gotta get
laid." He eased himself up and out of bed, and stripped off his semen-damp
pajamas in the bathroom. He peeled back the dressing and examined his
wound, peering at the stitches. It looked to be healing nicely, as far as he could tell. The doctor had warned him to be careful of illness and infection, though . apparently not having a
spleen sometimes resulted in compromised immunity. He'd have to look that
up. He washed himself and deposited the pajamas in the laundry hamper.
Maybe Nicky and the others could come by with the ALS and check for semen.
He laughed out loud. They'd think he and Gil had been going at it like rabbits.
He went through to the bedroom and found a clean pair of pajama bottoms
and pulled them on; the cotton fabric chafed the head of his cock and his
arousal grew hot in the base of his belly. He sighed: where the hell was
Gil? What was taking him so long? The phone rang and he reached for it,
fitted the receiver to his ear. "Brass."
There was a long silence. And then a voice at the other end, a voice he
thought he'd never hear again.
"Daddy?"
To be continued...