CSI--Submissive
Jul. 14th, 2007 05:11 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
kosmickway.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
csi_fictionCSI: Submissive
Rating: R for erotic situations, alcohol use, and bondage.
Pairing: Catherine/Grissom
Summary: Catherine wants to know what Grissom has learned from Lady Heather and Grissom is only too happy to show her.
Author’s Note: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roman_romantic, who wanted Cath/Gris with some spice.
A/N The Second: I built the relationship between Gris and Cath by basing it on the magnificent back story created by theohara in her fic “The Wall.” It can be found at the GSR (Grissom/Sara Romance) homepage under Favorite Fic.
“She was at a what?”
Catherine rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. “A rainbow party.”
“You’re going to have to explain.” Grissom’s face was shaping itself into the bemused expression it got on the rare occasions when someone knew something that he didn’t.
“I was hoping it was just a trend but apparently it’s stuck around. We dealt with it during the Hannah West trial, remember?” Grissom shook his head so Catherine continued. “It’s a party where the teenage girls all wear different colors of lipstick and give the guys oral sex. The guy who has the most colors at the end of the night becomes Master of the Universe or something. Apparently they also give out points for the girl who can deep throat it the furthest.” Grissom choked on his wine and Catherine offered a grim smile. “I know. Pretty scary.”
“And Lindsay was at one of these?”
“I busted it up completely. She and Madeleine weren’t coming to the door at Madeleine’s house last night so I went in. After the stint some of Sam’s backers pulled a few months ago with her– well, let’s just say I was worried.”
“Understandably.” Grissom watched a shadow fall over her face as she recalled Lindsay’s kidnaping at the hands of some business associates who were seeking revenge on Sam Braun, the mega-millionaire casino owner who also happened to be Catherine’s biological father.
“So I head inside– the door was unlocked– and follow the music and what do I find downstairs but my daughter re-applying this god-awful shade of fuchsia lipstick in the middle of a circle of girls and a bunch of guys reclining on the sofa with their pants around their ankles!”
“So I take it she’s grounded until she’s thirty.”
“Fifty!” Catherine knocked back the last of her wine and leaned her head back against the couch, shutting her eyes. “We’re going into counseling. I do not want her doing the same dumb stuff I did. She has got to understand that sex is something to be had between two people who care about each other and not passed around as a party favor!”
“Sex is an amusement. It’s a diversion. It’s a sport. The next logical step for some people is that it’s also a party favor, something to be given and taken freely.”
Catherine opened her eyes. “You don’t really believe that.”
“Not all of the time, no.”
“That you even believe it some of the time is really disturbing to me. There was a time when you cared a great deal about sex and what it meant.”
There it was again, their shared history rising to the surface. That she even knew that about him was a testament to how close they had once been, to how far they had grown apart in the last years.
“Cath, I cared about making love and what it meant. Some people think it’s trite to differentiate, but it really is necessary.” He touched her gaze with his and gave her a small smile. “The night we met, when I was desperately trying to drink my way into an adventure in a brand-new city and I ended up picking you up at a strip club–“
Catherine laughed at the memory. “What a baby you were, Gil, even if you were three years older.”
“That night, we had sex,” he continued. “Years later, the night you left Eddie the first time and came to my apartment because you needed a place to crash– that night, we made love.” He leaned forward and touched her face, lightly caressing his thumb over her high cheekbone. “And there was a difference.”
“I remember.” Catherine covered his hand in hers, squeezed his fingers. “With Sara– is it making love?”
Grissom smiled. “It’s the sweetest love-making I’ve ever known.” He squeezed back. “And you, with Warrick?”
“God, yes,” Catherine murmured. “It’s like touching heaven.” She closed her eyes, thinking about her absent lover. “Why DID we send both of them to the San Diego conference anyway?”
“Bad planning on my part.” He stood and took her wine glass. “Ready for a refill?”
“Please.” Catherine rose to stretch and wandered around Grissom’s living room, examining books, Lucite cases of butterflies, and the pieces of artwork on the walls. “Speaking of sex,” she called into the kitchen, stopping in front of his bookshelf, “is there any reason why you have an entire shelf of erotica and three editions of the Kama Sutra?” She started looking at titles. “Consensual Sadomasochism; Fetish Sex--An Erotic Guide for Couples; Best Bondage Erotica; He’s On Top–Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission. Gil, I cannot believe this! Does Sara actually let you DO this stuff to her?”
Grissom walked over to the shelf in question and handed Catherine her glass of wine. “Sara and I haven’t done this sort of experimentation yet. We’re taking it slow.”
“Yet being the operative word,” Catherine emphasized. “But still, why the library?”
“After I met Heather I became interested– clinically interested, mind you– in the practices people engaged in at her domain. So I decided to do a little studying.”
“Dare I ask about hands-on practice?”
“I won’t give you all of the details.”
Catherine’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re kidding?! You, straight-laced Gil Grissom, actually let Lady Heather have her kinky, corseted, jack-booted, handcuffing, whipping way with you?”
“It didn’t always involve handcuffs,” Grissom replied calmly. “And never whips. Though the corsets looked incredible on her.”
“That is– extraordinary.” Catherine laughed. “Gil, you are full of surprises.”
“It’s quite fascinating, really. Our minds are our most important sexual organs, fueling the fantasies we try to keep under wraps. Heather has created a place where fantasy can come safely to life. The trappings of what she practices– the whips, the chains, the handcuffs– might not be appealing to some people, but the underlying principle of allowing fantasy to come out in a safe, controlled reality is quite a turn-on.”
“And did you experience this for yourself?” Catherine asked, taking another sip of wine, eyes on Grissom. “Fantasy becoming reality?”
“She let me–“ Grissom stopped, hunting for the right metaphor. “Sample a whole variety of activities. Some of them were more interesting than others.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make me drag it out of you? Come on, spill it, what gets you? Not handcuffs, surely. And you already said no whips. Hmm ... female dominance, maybe. Though I can’t exactly see Sara ordering you to kiss her feet.”
Grissom was watching her think out loud, his eyes amused. “Let’s leave Sara out of this, Cath. It’s my predilections we’re talking about, not hers.”
“All right. Hmm ... Discipline. No, that can’t be it. You’re not aggressive enough.” Catherine stamped her foot in consternation and took another long sip of wine, still mulling.
“You’ve never been able to dissect me, Catherine, I very much doubt you can start now.”
“You are so damn smug.” She shook her head, smirking at him. “I would just love to wipe that grin off your face.”
“Would you?”
“You’re so used to being right, to always getting your way. It’s really kind of irritating.” She put her glass down on the shelf and crossed to him, circling him, studying with a critical eye.
He allowed the scrutiny, still wearing the half-smile that was infuriating her so.
“Someone really needs to put you in your place,” she finally said, stopping in front of him, closer in to his personal space than he would normally allow anyone to venture. But this was Catherine, his first love, the impulsive, temperamental red-head who had fueled a fire in his belly for so many days and nights before Sara ever appeared.
“I suppose you think it’s going to be you that does it,” Grissom replied, with just enough of a smirk to provoke a response.
“You’re damn right it is.” She moved into him and there was enough momentum in the forward motion of her body to push him back against the wall. Her fingers were scrabbling for his wrists. He let her pin them, knowing what she wanted– or at least what she thought she wanted-- and willing enough to play the game to let her have it.
Catherine’s mouth slid over his and her lips were as full and warm as he remembered. He kissed her back, gently at first, then harder as she pressed insistently against him. Her mouth moved to his throat, her teeth nipping at his skin until it sang. He allowed her to continue her assault on his neck, willingly remained pinned against the wall with his wrists in her hands long enough for her to feel very much in control. As she moved to push him to the floor on his knees, he surprised her by breaking her grip on his wrists and reversing their positions until she was pressed flat against the wall, her hands pinned above her head, eyes wide and surprised.
“Gil, what the hell–“
”What is it you want, Cath?” His voice was low and controlled, though her let her hear the undercurrent of need in it.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What was it that you wanted to get out of pinning me to the wall and making me fall on my knees in front of you? How did you want to feel?”
“Powerful.”
“There are many kinds of power, Catherine.” He bent to the curve where her neck met her shoulder and bit, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make her gasp. “What kind of power did you want to have over me? What did you want me to do?”
“Whatever I wanted.” She shuddered as he bit at her shoulder again, moved her hips against his. “Whatever I asked of you.”
He released her wrists then, skimmed his fingers down her arms in a light, teasing caress.
“Lesson number one, Cath. It’s not the dominant who has the power.” He stepped back and allowed her to move away from the wall if she chose. “It’s the submissive.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the one who can always say stop.”
Catherine stepped away from the wall and moistened her lips nervously. “I’m not ready to stop yet.”
Gil gave her a wicked smile. “Good. Neither am I.” He held his hands out to her, waiting for her to twine her fingers with his. When she did, he kissed her fingers gently and lead her back to the bedroom.
END.
Rating: R for erotic situations, alcohol use, and bondage.
Pairing: Catherine/Grissom
Summary: Catherine wants to know what Grissom has learned from Lady Heather and Grissom is only too happy to show her.
Author’s Note: For
roman_romantic, who wanted Cath/Gris with some spice. A/N The Second: I built the relationship between Gris and Cath by basing it on the magnificent back story created by theohara in her fic “The Wall.” It can be found at the GSR (Grissom/Sara Romance) homepage under Favorite Fic.
“She was at a what?”
Catherine rolled her eyes and took a sip of her wine. “A rainbow party.”
“You’re going to have to explain.” Grissom’s face was shaping itself into the bemused expression it got on the rare occasions when someone knew something that he didn’t.
“I was hoping it was just a trend but apparently it’s stuck around. We dealt with it during the Hannah West trial, remember?” Grissom shook his head so Catherine continued. “It’s a party where the teenage girls all wear different colors of lipstick and give the guys oral sex. The guy who has the most colors at the end of the night becomes Master of the Universe or something. Apparently they also give out points for the girl who can deep throat it the furthest.” Grissom choked on his wine and Catherine offered a grim smile. “I know. Pretty scary.”
“And Lindsay was at one of these?”
“I busted it up completely. She and Madeleine weren’t coming to the door at Madeleine’s house last night so I went in. After the stint some of Sam’s backers pulled a few months ago with her– well, let’s just say I was worried.”
“Understandably.” Grissom watched a shadow fall over her face as she recalled Lindsay’s kidnaping at the hands of some business associates who were seeking revenge on Sam Braun, the mega-millionaire casino owner who also happened to be Catherine’s biological father.
“So I head inside– the door was unlocked– and follow the music and what do I find downstairs but my daughter re-applying this god-awful shade of fuchsia lipstick in the middle of a circle of girls and a bunch of guys reclining on the sofa with their pants around their ankles!”
“So I take it she’s grounded until she’s thirty.”
“Fifty!” Catherine knocked back the last of her wine and leaned her head back against the couch, shutting her eyes. “We’re going into counseling. I do not want her doing the same dumb stuff I did. She has got to understand that sex is something to be had between two people who care about each other and not passed around as a party favor!”
“Sex is an amusement. It’s a diversion. It’s a sport. The next logical step for some people is that it’s also a party favor, something to be given and taken freely.”
Catherine opened her eyes. “You don’t really believe that.”
“Not all of the time, no.”
“That you even believe it some of the time is really disturbing to me. There was a time when you cared a great deal about sex and what it meant.”
There it was again, their shared history rising to the surface. That she even knew that about him was a testament to how close they had once been, to how far they had grown apart in the last years.
“Cath, I cared about making love and what it meant. Some people think it’s trite to differentiate, but it really is necessary.” He touched her gaze with his and gave her a small smile. “The night we met, when I was desperately trying to drink my way into an adventure in a brand-new city and I ended up picking you up at a strip club–“
Catherine laughed at the memory. “What a baby you were, Gil, even if you were three years older.”
“That night, we had sex,” he continued. “Years later, the night you left Eddie the first time and came to my apartment because you needed a place to crash– that night, we made love.” He leaned forward and touched her face, lightly caressing his thumb over her high cheekbone. “And there was a difference.”
“I remember.” Catherine covered his hand in hers, squeezed his fingers. “With Sara– is it making love?”
Grissom smiled. “It’s the sweetest love-making I’ve ever known.” He squeezed back. “And you, with Warrick?”
“God, yes,” Catherine murmured. “It’s like touching heaven.” She closed her eyes, thinking about her absent lover. “Why DID we send both of them to the San Diego conference anyway?”
“Bad planning on my part.” He stood and took her wine glass. “Ready for a refill?”
“Please.” Catherine rose to stretch and wandered around Grissom’s living room, examining books, Lucite cases of butterflies, and the pieces of artwork on the walls. “Speaking of sex,” she called into the kitchen, stopping in front of his bookshelf, “is there any reason why you have an entire shelf of erotica and three editions of the Kama Sutra?” She started looking at titles. “Consensual Sadomasochism; Fetish Sex--An Erotic Guide for Couples; Best Bondage Erotica; He’s On Top–Erotic Stories of Male Dominance and Female Submission. Gil, I cannot believe this! Does Sara actually let you DO this stuff to her?”
Grissom walked over to the shelf in question and handed Catherine her glass of wine. “Sara and I haven’t done this sort of experimentation yet. We’re taking it slow.”
“Yet being the operative word,” Catherine emphasized. “But still, why the library?”
“After I met Heather I became interested– clinically interested, mind you– in the practices people engaged in at her domain. So I decided to do a little studying.”
“Dare I ask about hands-on practice?”
“I won’t give you all of the details.”
Catherine’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “You’re kidding?! You, straight-laced Gil Grissom, actually let Lady Heather have her kinky, corseted, jack-booted, handcuffing, whipping way with you?”
“It didn’t always involve handcuffs,” Grissom replied calmly. “And never whips. Though the corsets looked incredible on her.”
“That is– extraordinary.” Catherine laughed. “Gil, you are full of surprises.”
“It’s quite fascinating, really. Our minds are our most important sexual organs, fueling the fantasies we try to keep under wraps. Heather has created a place where fantasy can come safely to life. The trappings of what she practices– the whips, the chains, the handcuffs– might not be appealing to some people, but the underlying principle of allowing fantasy to come out in a safe, controlled reality is quite a turn-on.”
“And did you experience this for yourself?” Catherine asked, taking another sip of wine, eyes on Grissom. “Fantasy becoming reality?”
“She let me–“ Grissom stopped, hunting for the right metaphor. “Sample a whole variety of activities. Some of them were more interesting than others.”
Catherine rolled her eyes. “Are you going to make me drag it out of you? Come on, spill it, what gets you? Not handcuffs, surely. And you already said no whips. Hmm ... female dominance, maybe. Though I can’t exactly see Sara ordering you to kiss her feet.”
Grissom was watching her think out loud, his eyes amused. “Let’s leave Sara out of this, Cath. It’s my predilections we’re talking about, not hers.”
“All right. Hmm ... Discipline. No, that can’t be it. You’re not aggressive enough.” Catherine stamped her foot in consternation and took another long sip of wine, still mulling.
“You’ve never been able to dissect me, Catherine, I very much doubt you can start now.”
“You are so damn smug.” She shook her head, smirking at him. “I would just love to wipe that grin off your face.”
“Would you?”
“You’re so used to being right, to always getting your way. It’s really kind of irritating.” She put her glass down on the shelf and crossed to him, circling him, studying with a critical eye.
He allowed the scrutiny, still wearing the half-smile that was infuriating her so.
“Someone really needs to put you in your place,” she finally said, stopping in front of him, closer in to his personal space than he would normally allow anyone to venture. But this was Catherine, his first love, the impulsive, temperamental red-head who had fueled a fire in his belly for so many days and nights before Sara ever appeared.
“I suppose you think it’s going to be you that does it,” Grissom replied, with just enough of a smirk to provoke a response.
“You’re damn right it is.” She moved into him and there was enough momentum in the forward motion of her body to push him back against the wall. Her fingers were scrabbling for his wrists. He let her pin them, knowing what she wanted– or at least what she thought she wanted-- and willing enough to play the game to let her have it.
Catherine’s mouth slid over his and her lips were as full and warm as he remembered. He kissed her back, gently at first, then harder as she pressed insistently against him. Her mouth moved to his throat, her teeth nipping at his skin until it sang. He allowed her to continue her assault on his neck, willingly remained pinned against the wall with his wrists in her hands long enough for her to feel very much in control. As she moved to push him to the floor on his knees, he surprised her by breaking her grip on his wrists and reversing their positions until she was pressed flat against the wall, her hands pinned above her head, eyes wide and surprised.
“Gil, what the hell–“
”What is it you want, Cath?” His voice was low and controlled, though her let her hear the undercurrent of need in it.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“What was it that you wanted to get out of pinning me to the wall and making me fall on my knees in front of you? How did you want to feel?”
“Powerful.”
“There are many kinds of power, Catherine.” He bent to the curve where her neck met her shoulder and bit, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to make her gasp. “What kind of power did you want to have over me? What did you want me to do?”
“Whatever I wanted.” She shuddered as he bit at her shoulder again, moved her hips against his. “Whatever I asked of you.”
He released her wrists then, skimmed his fingers down her arms in a light, teasing caress.
“Lesson number one, Cath. It’s not the dominant who has the power.” He stepped back and allowed her to move away from the wall if she chose. “It’s the submissive.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re the one who can always say stop.”
Catherine stepped away from the wall and moistened her lips nervously. “I’m not ready to stop yet.”
Gil gave her a wicked smile. “Good. Neither am I.” He held his hands out to her, waiting for her to twine her fingers with his. When she did, he kissed her fingers gently and lead her back to the bedroom.
END.
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Date: 2009-08-15 02:58 am (UTC)