Title: Easy Like Sunday Morning
Author: Esynnaj
Email: vebesahchalarc@sbcglobal.net
Permission to archive: WWOMB, CSI slash, all others please ask first
Fandom(s): CSI Slash
Genre: Slash
Pairing/Characters: Warrick/Grissom
Rating: FRAO
Summary: Warrick and Gil indulge in some sexual Sunday morning competition.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never have been & never will be

Easy Like Sunday Morning

It had taken some serious conniving on Catherine's part but she had a romantic soul as deep as the Atlantic Ocean and a stubborn streak which was twice as wide. When she decided Gil and Warrick needed to have some regular, extended time alone together, Grissom didn't stand a chance. She worked on him, without once ever letting him know what her intentions were, until she had forced him to work out the midnight shift schedule to her satisfaction. Arranging it so Grissom was off on Friday and Saturday nights, and she would supervise, she had also arranging matters for Warrick to be off on Saturday and Sunday nights. That way, Grissom's bad habit of hanging around on Sunday mornings trying to put in a few extra hours during that quiet time to get overdue paperwork done had become a thing of the past. Since Warrick always cleared out as soon as he could and went home, unlike the midnight shift primary, workaholic supervisor, he and Gil would consistently have almost two whole days of down time togetherness. Even on Saturday mornings after finishing their midnight shifts, if they hadn't any pressing cases to close, all Warrick had to do was call Gil from the locker room and say in a soft and silky voice he had stripped down to a T-shirt in preparation of getting ready to go home. After Grissom got that image in his head, he would no longer be able to concentrate and would soon drop everything to leave with Warrick, although he would fuss and grumble all the way home. On Sunday mornings, Warrick was out the door within five minutes of the shift ending unless a supervisor was able to move fast and catch him before he raced from the parking out. Catherine hoped this would be because Grissom was already at home impatiently waiting for him, everything ready, set and go for scheduling their weekly sessions of gourmet dinners or evenings at an opera of Gil's choosing or a jazz club of Warrick's choosing or any rendezvous that led straight back to bed and hot, heavy sex, as Catherine always wistfully prayed her every evening out would end.

But Warrick and Gil's nights together most often did not precisely meet with Catherine's expectations. More frequently, the one who was home met the other at the door and welcomed him in to the late, light dinner that had already been prepared and a casual, pleasant conversation so he could wind down from the night's work which had frequently been intense. Sometimes, after their meal, they might take a stroll around the gated community where their condominium was located, enjoying the stillness and silence of the after midnight hours while everyone was asleep and they could openly hold hands, or put their arms about each other, without drawing disapproving stares. With a gentle, fresh summer breeze accompanying them as they wandered aimlessly through the streets, periodically gazing up at the clarity of a starry Nevada sky twinkling overhead, nothing Catherine could have come up with could have been more romantic or more likely to bring them closer together. The causal walks had become important to them and both looked forward to them. Still, every once in a while each wanted something a little different, something adding a little spice to life.

The last time it had been Warrick's ingenuity and creativity that had added that spice. On an early Monday morning, Gil had arrived home to a living room dimly lit by just a line of tall, white candles with the music of a thrumming, dark jazzy beat as a background. The line of flickering candles had been set up to lead Gil into his bedroom where Warrick, grinning wickedly, had been camped on his dresser barefoot and dressed in bright blue satin trousers such as Aladdin would've worn that had been tight at the waist and ankles with nothing else on other than a similarly colored heavy, brocade vest glittering with inlaid pieces of decorative sparkles. That grin had only widened as he had slid, slowly and sensuously from the dresser, always maintaining eye contact with Grissom, shoved forward an armless, overstuffed chair he had brought into the bedroom from the living room and said to Gil, very, very softly, "Have a seat, my beloved, my one and only lord and master. Allow me to entertain you with a song and dance I have created of my own design just for you."

Instantly mesmerized, unable to pull his gaze away from Warrick's, Gil had moved forward and sat down. Then Warrick had bent to begin whispering words of love into his ear, tender, sexy words he had put together himself and set to the rhythmic music coming from their built in speakers. Softly and in very vivid, personal detail that would've reddened Grissom's face under different circumstances, Warrick had informed Gil of the beauty of their shared love, both the lusty physicality of it and the overriding soulfulness of it. While he had sang, he had used his voice to distract Gil from his actions as he had gone about undressing the other man so effectively that all of Grissom's clothes had been removed without him ever clearly realizing how that had been accomplished. Then, with the volume of his voice increasing only slightly as he had stepped away from Grissom, his lithe body smoothly flowing in time to that dark, deadly beat, Warrick had began dancing for Gil, putting his heart and soul into a jazzy ballet, along with his body.

Grissom had watched, feeling as if he was being held in a breathless state of suspended animation while Warrick had danced for him as a sole audience. Without the slightest awkward movement, he had danced, every progressive step or motion of every limb fluidly floating from the previous into the next one as if Warrick was an automation of uncommon humanity and indescribable grace incapable of making a wrong turn. He was becoming a biological miracle with the breathtaking muscular cohesiveness and unity of streaming waters. By the time Warrick had risen from an amazing handstand which ended with him curling backward to ease into position straddling Grissom's legs, Gil's fingers were squeezing the cushion on the chair so tightly that his knuckles were bloodless, his dick was painfully hard, while standing proudly straight upright, and he had begun to harshly pant without knowing it.

But Warrick's dance hadn’t been quite finished. It had become an in-your-face, slow and sinuous, strip tease then a very efficient lap dance. Very innocently, he had shed the vest first, letting it drop and not removing anything else for several moments, just to keep Gil in suspense and whet his appetite for more. Then Warrick had knelt slowly while sliding his hands down his muscular legs to open the Velcro seams on one side of the Arabian night trousers so it fell slowly from him, leaving a leg bare from the waist down as he stood up. By the time he did the same to the other a few minutes later, the only thing preventing Gil from helplessly grabbing him and frantically slamming him to the floor to relieve the passion and pressure that had built up in him was Warrick laughing quietly, as he easily slipped from the reaches of outstretching hands.

However, Warrick had a plan and the conclusion of the plan was afoot. Beneath the billowing trousers was only a pale blue G-string, the main material of it covering just an engorged, hugely lengthened and widened cock and leaving every other bit of his long, lean physique available for Gil's viewing pleasure. Settling a portion of that physique on Grissom's lap, he had continued the dance while he'd leaned in slow to seek a long, lingering kiss that was once more a distraction as he had began to expertly work Gil's nipples with agile fingers, drawing sequences of profuse and protracted groans from his lover. His tactic of diversion was so successful that he had been able to rise slightly and sink back down on the tip of the rigid penis beneath him before Gil had been aware of what he was about to do. That had startled and pulled such a loud outcry from Grissom, Gil had surged upward and started hotly thrusting without having time to be embarrassed about the unconventionality of what they were doing or dismayed by his own noisy reaction to it.

Gil had wrapped his arms tight about Warrick and pumped for all he was worth, burying his head against Warrick chest, breathing hard and taking control. Warrick had smiled and just let him have it his way, had laughed aloud when Gil's head had jerked back onto the chair while his hands slipped down and squeezed Warrick's buttocks hard. He had keened high and wide with repeated spasms of release hitting him, had pulled Warrick bodily to himself to hold him close as the shudders cut through him. Slumping wearily afterward, not letting Warrick go, never wanting to let him go and fully intending to never let him go, Gil had asked after he had gotten breath back enough to speak, "My God, Ricky, where on earth or how on earth did you ever learn how to dance like that?"

And Warrick had tiredly answered, still laughing a little, "You seem to forget, I wasn't always a CSI."

Since that night, Grissom had sought to come up with something, anything, comparably spicy. They'd had several enjoyable days, evenings and nights but none he'd thought had come close to the one Warrick had planned out. Then after a worrisome Saturday midnight shift, Warrick came home and discovered Gil had finally hit on a scheme that topped his. He walked in to find all lights were off and that same line of candles had been set up leading into Gil's bedroom. He immediately smiled in anticipation. The lively beat of Mozart was playing in the background this time as opposed to the self styled jazz Warrick had created before. After he'd followed the tall candles, he went into the bedroom to find Gil waiting for him, but dressed in sleeveless black leather from head to toe with a black mask over his eyes, which set off his silvery hair and bright blue eyes while he held several long, red ribbons in his hands.

"I welcome you to my humble abode, my beloved, my lord and master," Gil purred. "While I'm not the excellent song and dance man that you are, might I offer you instead, my services for a night of pleasure such as you have never known?"

Tilting his head slightly to the side while noting Grissom had also laid out a collection of other new and highly unusual objects and containers on the nightstand by his bed, Warrick asked, "Are we… having a Lady Heather moment here or something?"

"Indeed we are not. We are having a Gilbert Grissom and Warrick Brown moment. If you would please divest yourself of all current attire, take a very brief shower and then recline upon the divan which has been previously prepared for you in this steamy boudoir, we shall proceed to render upon you much ecstasy."

Warrick's grin was spreading as he asked, "Gil, what're you up to, man?"

Rather than responding to that question, Gil said, "Oh? Do you refuse to obey me? Then, I suppose I'll have to undress you myself." After so saying, Gil stepped to Warrick and firmly pushed his jacket from his shoulder, let it drop to the floor then firmly kissed him on the lips as he started to unbutton his shirt. Continuing to kiss him and undo the shirt, he told him between the kisses, "We'll going to play a little game tonight, a game in which you will do exactly as I say because my every wish will be to give you extreme pleasure. If you do not do as I say, the pleasure will be more mine than yours but will still be pleasure and not pain. Have I made myself clear about that?"

Grinning more and more, Warrick said, "Yeah, that's clear."

"Very good." Gil slid the shirt from his shoulders and tossed it to the floor to begin unfastening his slacks as he calmly explained,. "In a scenario of mutual domination and submission, there's always a word to stop the action and the submissive is the one who says that word. What do you want your word to be?"

"I'm gonna be the submissive in this?"

"Of course."

"Why do I gotta be the submissive?"

"Because you're going to be the one with the power."

"Uh-huh. Know what? I don't see where that makes any sense at all."

"Trust me, you will. So what do you want your word to be?"

"How about stop?"

"Oh, come on, Warrick, get into the spirit of the thing. Be a little more creative than that."

"Okay. So you want creative, huh? How's mutiny on the bounty do it for you?"

"Whatever floats your boat, as you're wont to say at times." Grissom pushed Warrick's pants to his ankles and kneeling down, said, "Lift your feet." As Warrick put a hand on his shoulders for support, Gil slipped his shoes, socks and pants off each leg and foot before standing back up. Then he walked behind Warrick and very much to the other man's shock, delivered a sharp slap to his bare behind. "Now if you please, go take that aforementioned shower and be quick about it."

Greatly bemused, Warrick did as he was told, came back about ten minutes later with a towel about his waist and was trying to dry his hair with another towel as he smiled and asked, "Was that quick enough?"

"Not really, but I suppose it'll have to do," Grissom answered, snatching both towels from him. "Please get on the bed, as I'd requested before, and we shall begin."

Once Warrick was lying on his back, Gil walked about the bed and tied his hands and ankles to each bedpost with the red ribbons, Warrick eyeing him suspiciously as he rounded each side. "Can I say mutiny on the bounty now?"

"No, you may not."

"You're making me real nervous here, Gil."

"Why? Don't you trust me?"

"Hell yeah, with my life. But you're still making me nervous. What's the reason I've gotta be tied down?"

"I guarantee it'll add to your pleasure. They're only ribbons. They're tied tight to the posts, but not on your arms. All you would have to do is pull on 'em to get loose from them. Pretty soon, you will appreciate 'em because they'll give you something to hold on to, because, soon enough, you're really going to feel an urgent need to be grounded. So just relax and trust me. At least give this experiment a few minutes before you deem it a failure. Please don't disappoint me. I thought I'd taught you to be a better scientist than to rush to a conclusion before you've got all the evidence in."

Still smiling, Warrick said challengingly, "Well then, get on with it, so we can see if you're wasting my time or not."

Cocking his head and giving Warrick a baleful squint, Gil picked up a bottle of previously warmed and delicately scented baby oil, poured a bit of it into the palm of his hand then announced, "Warrick Brown, I am now going to give you the massage of your life. I expect you to lie still and take it. While complete silence, knowing you as I do, probably is not likely, I do expect as much of it from you as possible. Excessive noise will be met by my immediate withdrawal, whereupon you shall be forced lie as you are, in a vulnerable and unsatisfied state, and watch while I pleasure myself. Am I totally understood?"

Warrick arched an eyebrow up in mild surprise because Grissom had always claimed he would never be comfortable with the notion of self-masturbation in front of another person, including Warrick. So that absolutely had to be a sight Warrick would just have to do whatever it took to see. "Oh yeah, ma man, understood most definitely, you are. Let's do this thing."

Gil moved to start at the tips of Warrick's fingers and worked his way down utilizing long, sure, firm strokes to competently locate and loosen every stress tightened pressure point until the man who was being so lovingly administered to felt like he was about to drift away on a flowery bed of ease. Soon, he laid there on a blissful edge of twilight consciousness, in total relaxation and eyes closed, with visions of extremely agreeable and amusing fantasies floating across fluttering eyelids, each of them involving past and future sexual or romantic acts he had committed and intended to commit with Gil Grissom. He was so far gone from reality that, although the command to turn over had been clearly given and clearly heard, he had trouble reconnecting and struggled to comply, so had to be given a helping hand to rotate so his back could receive the same treatment his front had. By the time the massage was done and he was laying face up again, that lean, tawny frame glistening with oil from head to foot, Warrick was so tranquil, he was incapable of making a solitary move, even if he had wanted to, which he did not. He only opened his eyes a lazy slit when he heard a mysterious metallic container being shaken that had a hollow sound having a strange rattling within to ask casually, "What's that?"

"Just never you mind. Shut your eyes, shut your mouth and lay still."

Warrick obeyed then smiled as he heard the hissing from the can of whipped cream as Grissom applied it to his chest in a circular pattern, hissed quietly, arching up a little and toes curling as Gil leaned down to begin licking at the cream with the same long, sure, firm strokes he had used during the massage, stopping periodically only when he pulled a nipple into his mouth to suckle on it awhile. That was the procedure for a time, spray the whipped cream, lave whenever it had landed with his tongue for a long and slow while then leisurely suck until Warrick was sure he would go stark, raving mad with not being able to move or speak or participate. Also, just as the process had been with the massage, the whipped cream was put on him from head to toe, even dipped inside his ears from where it was tongued and put on his neck to be nibbled and nipped away. Then another can was acquired and this time, he was coated all over before Gil even touched him once. Gil, first leaning back on his haunches to look Warrick over where he laid on the bed covered in the whipped cream, as if to admire his artistic handiwork, finally took a deep breath and dived in like he was a starving man who hadn't had a full meal in months and began to wildly ravish the creamy Warrick with his mouth as if he and the whipping cream would dissolve if he didn't hurry and remove all of it.

There was nothing slow and easy about it this time and, once he had slurped it all up, he hunted down the can once more as he grabbed Warrick's cock in a tight fist to coat it and swallow it. Warrick couldn't help himself. His hands clenched the ribbon and he groaned loud and long. Grissom promptly released him. "Oh, no. You have done the unforgivable," Grissom whispered to the rapidly panting, dazed, confused and hungering man as he hovered over him. "You've made an unacceptable amount of noise. You have disobeyed me. Now you'll have to be punished severely for that. Suffer while I please only myself."

Moving away on the king sized bed so there was no chance of Warrick touching him, Gil knelt with his knees spread apart and unsnapped the black leather panel of the outfit he had on which covered his groin area and laid it aside. Blushing brightly and ducking his head, obviously unable to meet Warrick's eyes as he was pulling his own penis out, Grissom began to slowly and falteringly jerk off. He closed his eyes, turned inward to try to find the nerve and audacity to do this one thing for his man, one of the few acts Warrick had tried to get him to do but he would not.

However, when Warrick said, that deep, beloved voice low, husky and intense, brimming with love and confidence, "Do it, man. Do it for me," he did something to and for Gil, sent thrills through him that unbound him from his own insecurities. This made him open his eyes and a cerulean gaze instantly was locked onto and deep into an emerald gaze, was swept away by it. He remembered how he had watched Warrick do it so many times before, placed his own hands on himself in a similar position and without watching what he was doing, only maintaining eye contact with his lover, started feeling those matchless surges of passion rising in him which he always and only had ever experienced in Warrick's presence. He cried out as it cumulated, awkwardly crawled closer over to Warrick suddenly desirous of sharing his essence with him. Kneeling upright, he moved his body from right to left, pointing his penis so the spurts coming out of it all fell onto Warrick's torso, from below his neck all the way down to his legs. Warrick arched into the splatter, welcoming it, joining it, wanting it, cherishing it, for it had been reluctantly given, but given out of love. Warrick's cries merged inside Gil's and increased as Grissom fell on him and swallowed his cock down once more, an undertaking that, mere seconds later, so necessarily resulted in him reaching orgasm, Gil was still shuddering through the remnants of his own as Warrick began climaxing.

Afterward, they were still awhile without saying anything. Then Warrick began to laugh. Not able to breath quite right yet, he panted out, "Mutiny…on the bounty."

Feeling that precious laughter rumble beneath him as he lay stretched out across Warrick, Gil also began smiling as he mumbled, "Oh, just shut-up, Ricky."

"Man, that must be why I love you so goddamn much. Life won't ever get boring with you around, that is fuckin' guaranteed."