Title: The Games People Play
Author: Cooper
Pairing: Cath/Sara
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sara decides it's time to play...

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I'm humming with the radio as I pull into her driveway and park the truck. With less than innocent intentions I turn my key in her front door lock. Unbeknownst to Catherine, I am maxed out on overtime already for the week and the apparent lack of crime for the evening is working in my favor. The lamp in the living room is on, as is the stereo. I grin when I hear the sultry voice of Fionna Apple filling the room. That particular CD had been a gift for Catherine. I picked it up a few weekends ago when we were at the mall with Lindsey.

I am in quite the rowdy mood this evening. It had not been easy, but thanks to some creative time juggling, the next 48 hours, (wait, make that 52 hours), neither of us is scheduled to work. I know for a fact that Catherine has called in her last favor, and I'd tried everything short of promising Greg a night of wild sex. But, a girl has to do what a girl has to do. And truthfully, the look in Catherine's eyes when I told her the good news would have been worth suffering through the ninth circle of hell.

Something about this woman gets completely under my skin. I thought she was gorgeous the first time I laid eyes on her. I thought she was a bitch the first we attempted a conversation. And the first time I kissed her, I had no doubt that she was the answer to everything I'd ever questioned. She has a presence that makes me fear her, respect her, crave her, love her, want to kiss her senseless, and then strangle her all in the span of 10 seconds. It is no secret to anyone that Catherine and I have suffered our share of "personality conflicts." Of course, what they don't know, is that for the last few months we've been solving our problems over breakfast....in bed....naked.

We have no problems to solve tonight. Well, actually, I do have one problem. The problem being that if I don't have my hands on her, around her, and inside of her soon, I will undoubtedly prove the theory of spontaneous human combustion. I am at the point of being totally out of control with a predatory lust. It is something I am unaccustomed to. I've never felt quite like this. It is not as if I've never been in love or in lust before. I have, but I've never wanted to "devour" anyone the way I do Catherine. She is constantly on my mind. It is an ongoing battle to keep my hands to myself when she is within reach. Something about her brings out a primal aggression in me that has apparently been buried deep, waiting for release by someone who does not fear it but embraces it.

I was completely taken aback the first time my passion got the better of me. It was not so much the fact that I'd allowed myself to get worked into such a complete frenzy that I'd bitten Catherine on the neck so hard that I nearly brought blood. It was that the instant my teeth sunk into her flesh, a low moan escaped her throat that, in no uncertain terms, informed me that any self-control I may have attempted to recapture, no longer had a place or a reason to remain. An intense battle for dominance quickly ensued which left us both sweaty, sore and bruised, but sated, nonetheless. Hell, it was the best sex I'd ever had. I remember watching Catherine in the break room the next shift....she'd sunk into a chair, winced and then offered me a sultry glare and a wink that nearly melted me on the spot.

Short term side-effects included a distinct lack tank tops for a few days. If anyone paid enough attention to notice, they refrained from voicing it out loud.

That was a few weeks ago. I'd been trying to behave myself since then. Okay, maybe not, but we haven't had much time to spend together between work, and Lindsey and normal life. I have the time now and in about five minutes the only that is going to be under my control is CSI Willows. I plan on taking my sweet time. We aren't at work and we don't have to sneak kisses in darkened hallways. I don't have to act like I'm not having a nuclear meltdown between my legs every time she "accidentally" brushes her breasts against my back in the locker room. She can be such a tease when she knows I can't do a damn thing about it.

(If Grissom ever finds out, he'll undoubtedly give birth to a llama. The whole situation of course, is totally inappropriate. Especially now that she is a supervisor, and even though I don't work directly "under" her (well, not at the lab anyway...) she still has seniority. At this point, I could not care less. The relationship that we are building outside of work does not have its foundation built on office politics.)

I am assuming that Catherine is still asleep. After all, I am running about four hours early. I meander slowly down the hallway toward the bedroom and step quietly inside the door noticing the blue glow from the clock as the only light in the room. I'm surprised to hear the shower running and grin wickedly. She is awake. This is good. She's naked - even better.
I consider my options and decide to remain unannounced as of yet, perched quietly in the darkened corner.


************************************************************

I swear I think my ass is getting numb. How can any woman her size possibly have enough to wash to stay in the shower for so long? Jesus....I glance at the clock and only seven minutes have passed, but it seems like days.

Finally....finally, I hear the goddamn water turn off.

I suffer quietly through another ten minutes before she emerges from the bathroom, I'm amazed and little disappointed to discover that she has already put on her jeans and her bra. What the hell, Catherine? No shoes? Oh well, minor obstacles....easy enough to fix. I've yet to announce my presence, and oddly enough, she hasn't seen me yet. She's humming in time with Fiona - "Slow Like Honey" - ironically, the one song on that CD that makes me want to chew her clothes off..

Her hair is still a bit damp, but falls beautifully across her shoulders. Her back is to me now a she faces her closet to grab a shirt. I really don't feel as if a shirt is necessary as I sneak quietly up behind her. I don't want to give her a coronary, nor do I want her to give me a broken nose, but something dark lurking just beneath the surface of my psyche, demands that I remain in stealth mode.

My hands are hot as I reach up and place them around her ribs. She's so petite that my long fingers nearly touch as I pull her into me. She jumps, startled, her body obviously recognizing my touch before her conscious mind does, because she relaxes immediately. I lean forward slightly and whisper low and throaty into her ear...my breath causing goose bumps to rise across her smooth skin.

"You don't need to get dressed on my account."

"Jesus Christ, Sara, you nearly scared me to death," she exhales, trying to sound irritated, but not quite getting there. "What the hell are you doing here so early?" she asks.

I don't answer immediately, using my hands instead of my voice in answer to her inquiry. I pull her closer to me and she places her hands atop mine. She hesitates slightly as I begin to move nudging her foward with my knees and walking her ever so slowly toward the wall next to the bathroom. My plan takes on a whole new level as I glance up and notice the two robe hooks I'd installed two weeks prior. It really is funny how things work out sometimes.

It was after the third occurrence of being paged into work and spending a half hour trying to locate, separate, and untangle the clothing we'd so haphazardly torn from each other and thrown to all four corners of the room, that I'd suggested installing a nice "hers and hers" ensemble of hooks for the wall. Catherine's is on the left; mine is on the right... Sometimes our clothes actually make it there. Most times not.

"Sara, what are you...?"

"Ssshh." I stop her before she can finish her question.

"Scaring you to death wasn't exactly what I in mind" I murmer as my hands sneak out from beneath hers. My fingertips move up over her shoulders and down the length of her arms. I place my larger hands atop hers and our fingers entwine.

"But if you'll be a very good girl..." I trail light kisses on her neck as I raise her arms above her head and gently force each of her hands to grip the corresponding hook. There is a hitch in her breath as she listens.

"...and do as I say...I promise to make it worth your while."

I can't resist the urge to grind myself into her beautiful round backside as my tongue lazily snakes around her earlobe. She smells fucking fabulous. Her breath is uneven and I can only imagine what her heart rate is by now. I don't, however, have to imagine the immense pool of wetness gathering between my legs as her ass makes contact with my crotch.

Lowering my head slightly, I nuzzle into her neck and sink my teeth in hard enough to leave a mark. I am quite satisfied with the sharp intake of breath and immediate tensing of the body in front of me. I feel the sinewy muscle of her back working as a whimper escapes Catherine's lips. Before she can make her voice work, she realizes exactly where I have positioned her. She lets her head fall back onto my shoulder and looks up at me with a half lidded gaze full of pure unadulterated lust, her pupils dilated to the point total blackness.

"Do you trust me, Catherine?" I kiss her lightly on the lips. "Can you be a good girl?" I whisper to her, while I have her gaze. The question itself is not necessary. I know the answer, or I wouldn't have bothered being here. But, even with that level of trust, this is unusual for her...to even consider offering surrender. I feel her shiver against me, but as lustful as her gaze is, I still recognize that little glint of defiance in those beautiful eyes. My hands, which of their own volition have begun a slow journey down her arms and back to her stomach, cease their movement. Her soft skin is smooth and warm against my fingers. Catherine's hands, however, have released their grip on the hooks. With a sneaky twist of her ass, she makes a quick move and attempts to turn around to face me. I'm faster though, and I've been waiting for this all night. She isn't going to win. I hear her surprised gasp as I roughly grab her and place her back where I want her. Arms again above her head and gripping the hooks. She is panting heavily now and rests her forehead on the wall in front of her. Perhaps my intensity has finally gotten her attention.

"Cute. But if you want to play the game, Cat, you'll have learn to follow the rules a little better." My voice is low and even a little threatening. I gently place my boot between her bare feet and nudge them apart. Not so far apart as to be uncomfortable, but enough to make any further resistance more difficult. As a CSI, I can't remember ever having the opportunity to force someone to assume the position. Hell, I'd have done it years ago if I'd known it would be this much fun.

"I have an idea. In the spirit of fair play, why don't I go over the rules with you." I lean in close to her ear to speak. Another tiny whimper escapes her lips.

"You'll move when I tell you move. You'll speak only when I tell you to speak....and last, but not least, you come when I tell you to come." I grab a fist full of hair and pull her head back to make my point. "If I let you, that is."

My reward is the deepest, sensual groan I've ever heard from the lips of a human. It sends a signal directly between my legs . A beautiful sound that in itself nullifies any minute doubt that this gorgeous woman, who commands a room and exudes strength with every breath, has any qualms at all about giving me control. A gift that I don't take lightly or for granted.

I open my fist to release her hair and my fingers begin to stroke the silky blonde tresses, my nails gently grazing her scalp. "Do you think you can play by the rules, baby?" I ask sweetly, dropping a soft kiss on her temple.

Catherine does not answer, but slow turns her face up to look me in the eyes, as if asking my permission to speak. My hands have moved to her ribcage again and are meandering slowly up toward her chest, fingertips dancing lightly toward her bra and over the swell of her breast. Her nipples are erect and straining hard against the lace and silk of the lingerie.

"You can answer, Catherine."

Struggling to find her voice, her eyes never waver from mine.

"I'll...."

I watch her elegant throat as she swallows. Her voice is husky and so quiet, it's barely audible.

"I'll try."

*************************************************************

"You'll try." I repeat her words. "I'm afraid trying isn't good enough," I answer, simultaneously assaulting both of her nipples with my fingernails. Grabbing the hard pebbles and closing my nails around each of them brings a gasp from my prey as I feel her knees nearly buckle. The soft material between my fingers and her skin prevent any real pain, however the intensity of the brief contact shocks her into another breathy moan that threatens to undo me right there. Her eyes are closed as her body seemingly awaits my next move.

"Look at me Catherine." I command, loving every second of this game. "I know you can do better."

Her heavy lids flutter open about halfway, and I realize she is having a hard time focusing. I flick a fingernail lightly across her nipple again, and there is that lovely gasp. Unsure if she has my permission to speak, her nod is so slight I would have missed it, had I not been so completely entranced by her every breath.

"That's my good girl." I soothe.

To say that my panties are seconds from sliding right off of me would be a gross understatement on so many levels. If this woman so much as whimpers my name right now, I am quite sure I'll have an orgasm. The fact that I've barely touched her and she's nearly incapable of speech or rational thought at this moment has my libido screaming into overdrive. It's completely intoxicating. This Catherine induced euphoria is more addictive than anything any alcohol or drug could ever have to offer.

I notice the thin layer of perspiration that has appeared across her body as I take a step back to observe the vision before me. I quickly decide the first order of business is the bra. Without allowing Catherine to move her arms, my first instinct is to literally chew the damn thing off of her, but that'll take too long and besides, I have a better idea as I reach back and pull out my knife. It's like my American Express....I never leave home without it.

"Catherine, Catherine...honestly, who puts a bra on in the bathroom when they're home alone?" I tease her seductively. Her face is turned toward the wall, so that I'm unable to see her expression when I click open the knife. I do detect a slight wince as her bra lands in three pieces on the floor. "You may want to take that into consideration the next time we have date," I whisper into her ear, causing her to shiver.

With that problem out of the way, my hands are again roaming over her muscled torso, her more than ample chest, and the puckered nipples that seem to be screaming for attention.

"Jesus, Cat, you feel so good." I press into her neck and pepper kisses up and down her jawline, and back to her ear. "You know if you need...." She nods again before I finish my sentence although I can't see her face. "I love you," I whisper.

She tastes as good as she smells . I am in no hurry as I leave not so much as an inch of her exposed skin untouched by my lips, teeth, and tongue. I thoroughly enjoy keeping her guessing so I randomly alternate between soft licks, kisses, nibbles and biting hard enough mark my territory. Judging by her groans, I think it's safe to say she likes those the best. It has been educational, as I've intimately discovered enough of her most sensitive spots to keep me busy for awhile.

She is a writhing, sweat covered goddess, and I think if I were to stop touching her this very second, and told her to come... she probably could. But, I don't want that just yet. I unbutton and remove my shirt, deciding to give her payback for all of those "accidents" in the locker room. Rubbing my nipples across the sensitive skin of her back while simultaneously pressing my hands over her denim clad ass to the inside of her thighs nearly causes her to lose it. I feel rather than see her right arm move down from its designated place as she puts her hand on mine and tries desperately to pull it toward the apex of her legs.

"Ah, ah, ah, Catherine." I scold the whimpering blonde whom I've teased into a quivering, incoherent mass of sweat and hormones. "I don't remember telling you to move."

I return her arm back to match the other. She is such a frustrated bundle of sexual tension right now that I almost feel sorry for her....almost.

"You're in quite the state aren't you, baby?" I ask. My voice is suprisingly calm, considering that I'm very close to a complete meltdown myself. I move my palms around her hips and very slowly begin to undo the snap of her jeans. The sounds emanating from her throat are deep, and raw, and music to my ears. I don't think that she would be capable of stringing three words together right now if her life depended on it.

I am grateful for my long arms as I easily reach around her. I move my left arm to her ribcage under her right breast. The movement of my right hand is slow and deliberate as it crawls down over her bellybutton and into her jeans. This time it is my eyelids that have grown heavy and fallen shut as my hand moves past the curls and into the warm, slick, wet of her obvious desire. "Oh God...." I moan as I realize just how wet she is. I don't know how much longer I can resist the urge to fuck her so fast and so hard that she can't remember her own name.

Her stomach muscles twitch with every movement of my hand as I let two fingers slowly circle her wet heat. "Catherine..." She is so far into the zone that she is oblivious to my voice. "Cat." I repeat as my move my right arm up toward her head and again grab a fistful of her blonde hair to get her attention. Not releasing her hair, but holding her head back onto my shoulder, I slide two fingers slowly in and out of her slick opening.

Those gorgeous eyes are barely slits when I turn slightly to face her. She is without a doubt the most breathtaking creature I've ever have ever seen. Whisps of her hair are clinging to her forehead and side of her face. She is panting, her sexy pouting lips parted. Her hips move forward quietly begging for more and deeper contact.

"Jesus, Cat.... Do you have any fucking idea how wet you are?" I'm whimpering as the salty taste of our combined sweat hits my tongue. "You're driving me insane."

I release my grip in her hair, and reach around, pushing the damp tendrils from her forehead. She is near tears as I remove my hand from between her legs and bring my glistening fingers toward her mouth.

My voice has gone south as I graze my slick thumb across her bottom lip.

"Taste how wet you are, baby." My eyes glaze over as I both watch and feel Catherine suck my sticky fingers into her mouth like a starving woman craving sustenance.

I come completely undone.

With a grunt, I pull my fingers from her mouth and reach up to bring her arms down. Grabbing her shoulders roughly, I turn her to face me. Her back is against the wall as I push my body into her, my thigh making its way between her legs. I cannot seem to touch enough of her as my hands roam across every inch of her skin. Her arms are at her sides and she still has not spoken.

"Catherine...talk to me." With a force that will surely leave a bruise, I sink my teeth into her neck before pulling back to look into her eyes. They are unfocused and nearly black with lust and need.

"Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you want... Catherine, tell me." I demand.

"Inside... need you...in...inside...me," she whimpers in labored breaths.

I am beyond insanity at this point as I reach down with both hands and jerk her jeans and panties from her hips. She cooperates by lifting up one bare foot at a time so that I can discard the offending garments. I call it a 3-pointer as her jeans sail across the room into the farthest corner.

"That's better now isn't it?"

I'm kissing her now, my tongue forcing it's way into her mouth in an attempt to completely devour her. "Tell me again," I say as I pull away for oxygen. Her nails dig into my back with a violent urgency.

"Come on baby, beg. Do you want it bad enough to beg?"

"Sara, please.....need you....please..."

"Please, what?"

"Please ... baby...fu..." Before she can finish the thought, I have three fingers pushing into her with enough force that I'm sure she won't be sitting comfortably for days. I pound into her until we are both dizzy and dripping with sweat. Unable to resist the urge to taste her, I drop to my knees, wrap my hands around her ass, and bury my face between her wet curls.

My nose is nuzzling into her clit as I push my tongue inside her. I cut my eyes upward to watch as she throws her head back with a loud groan. Her hands move to the back of my head and I feel her thighs tense and begin to tremble as she nears her release. I suck the little bundle of nerves into my mouth and am rewarded immediately as she tumbles over the edge.

I keep my face buried in her sweetness until I feel her knees buckle beneath her.

"Can't....stand up anymore...." I barely hear her, but move back and catch her as she falls to her knees and into my arms. I gently kiss her tear stained cheeks.

"Love you, Cat. Thank-you." I whisper between kisses.

She manages a low chuckle before we both fall over onto the floor. Moments later, she rests her head under my chin and lighly drags her nails across my stomach. "You're thanking me? Holy shit, Sara, I should be worshipping at your feet right now."

"Well, if you want to worship at my feet, it's okay with me, but if this is some newly discovered fetish you have, I think I'll need to go shoe shopping...." I tease.

She looks up into my eyes with a mischievous grin.

"Actually, the only fetish I have is a Sara fetish. And if you plan on going shopping.... Then it better be for lingerie. You owe me a bra." Cocking one eyebrow up, she reaches across me and picks up a shred of lacy fabric that was once part of her brassiere.

"Or," I say, "we could forget shopping, and bras, and shoes...and just stay here. That way we won't need any clothes..." I like my idea.

"Hmm... did you have something specific in mind?" she asks.

"Very specific." I reply.

"Well, then, you'd better tell me all about it." She says, but before I can speak, she is straddling my hips and pushing her tongue into my mouth.

It's just as well. I've never been much of a shopper anyway.

FIN

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