Title: Sexual Compatibility
Author: podga
Pairing: Gil/Nick. Established relationship.
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: CSI and its characters do not belong to me. I write and post for fun only.
Summary: PWP (limited and soft core). Nick administers a test.
A/N: I will freely admit that the little devil sitting on my shoulder is the spitting image of me. But lately she seems to be spending entirely too much time with this little blonde devil with an English accent…

“Are you busy?”

“Do I look busy?”

“Yes.”

I’m not busy, and I don’t see how I could possibly look it. I’m lying in bed, propped up against the headboard, reading. I sigh and rest the book in my lap, holding my place with one finger.

“Ok, what about now?”

“Better. We need to have a discussion.”

He sounds serious. Very serious. Which is a dead giveaway that he’s really not, because whenever he’s preparing me for something unpleasant, he tries to soften the blow, not heighten the suspense.

“About what?”

“Our sexual compatibility.”

“What about it?”

“Well, I was reading this article, and there was a questionnaire. So I filled out your answers, and it turns out that we’re not compatible.”

“You filled out my answers?”

“Yeah. So then I got to thinking that that was presumptuous of me, and that I should give you a chance to provide some input, maybe up the score a little bit.”

“The sexual compatibility score.”

“That’s the one.”

“And this questionnaire is published where?”

“Cosmopolitan. I found it lying on the table in the break room.”

“Cosmopolitan.”

“Yep. And I have to tell you, Gil, I’m more compatible with the person who filled out the questionnaire before me, than I am with you.”

“Except for the fact that whoever did so was probably a woman.”

“Details. Anyway, are you ready?”

“At the risk of losing you to an unknown woman who fills out sexual compatibility questionnaires in Cosmopolitan? I guess I’d better be, right?”

“And remember, there are no wrong or right choices. Just go with what you feel.”

“You don’t want to know what I feel.”

“Hmmm, we’ll just skip to question 9 for a second. My boyfriend is: A. Slow and patient by nature, B. Sometimes in a hurry, but able to control his impulses and wait for me, C. A little too quick on the trigger when passion overtakes him, but I like it, or D. An impatient Mr. Speedy Gonzales who barely notices my needs. I had filled in A for you, but I’m just going to change that to a D. I have to warn you, Gil, we’re moving in the wrong direction here.

“Okay. Question 1. My boyfriend likes to have sex: A. One to two times per day, B. One to two times per week, or C. One to two times per month.”

“There’s no D?”

“I am not giving you option D.”

“Just fill in whatever the mystery woman you’re sexually compatible with filled in.”

“Okay. A it is. And stop groaning. Next: My boyfriend is most attracted to me because of my: A. Good looks-”

“A.”

“No, wait, there’s more-”

“A.”

“B. Great personality, C. Intelligence or D. All of the above.”

“A.”

“I’ll have you know that my sexual match filled in C. So did I, when I was filling in my answers.”

“Gee, you’re too kind. I’m sticking with A.”

“Fine. In bed my boyfriend likes to try new exotic things like: A. Oral sex-”

“Oral sex? What year is that issue from?”

“Stop interrupting, will you? This is kinda like a litmus test.”

“A litmus test.”

“Uh huh. Anyway A. Oral sex, B. Anal sex, c. Spanking or d. Group sex.”

“How is this like a litmus test? Litmus tests use only one indicator.”

“Well, yeah. If you consider oral sex exotic, you’ve got pretty vanilla tastes, if you see what I mean. Which is okay if I also filled out A, but not okay if I filled out B or higher. Obviously, I’ve filled in at least B for me. That’s a hint.”

“Fine. D.”

“D?”

“Uh huh. I’m trying to expand my horizons. Of course I’ll need to move through spanking first. May I spank you?”

“You could stick with B. I won’t think less of you. I realize that, since we’re not exactly the target audience of Cosmopolitan, not all of these will apply 100%.”

I’m getting restless. Horny would be more accurate. Imagining Nick squirming naked in my lap, his hard dick sliding against mine, his ass rosy and warm, tends to have that effect on me.

“How much more?”

“We’ve only just finished the third question. Seven more to go. No, wait: Six, because I already filled out number nine.”

I sit up and set my book on the nightstand; I’m obviously not going to get any more reading done.

“Okay, number four… What are you doing?”

“I’m taking my T-shirt off. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Right. Number four. My boyfriend’s favorite fantasy involves: A. Me in a teddy... Nah, I think we’ll skip this one. Number five… Okay, now you’re taking your shorts off, too.”

“Consider it a litmus test.”

“A litmus test?”

“Yes. If Mr. Speedy Gonzales gets you hard in under three minutes and keeps you hard for anything over half an hour without coming himself, we can take that as a sign of sexual compatibility.”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t sound very scientific,” Nick says, but he’s already flushing, a clear sign that he’s getting aroused.

“Experiential science, Nick. The best kind there is,” I say, pulling the magazine from his loose grip and tossing it to the floor.

“Fine,” he says, moaning a little as my hand cups his hardening length over his boxers. “But we’ll need repetition to validate the results.”

“One to two times per day?” I suggest, feathering kisses along his collarbone and up his neck, deliberately tickling him a little, so that he arches in my arms and twists his head towards me, trying to kiss me, to stop me from teasing him.

“Yeah,” he gasps. “Ah, Jeez.” He reaches down and grabs my hand, then shoves it underneath his underwear, against his warm skin, guiding me to his cock, wrapping my fingers around it. Once he’s satisfied that I know what I’m doing there, he pushes his boxers down and rolls against me, his hips writhing.

“You’re so hot,” I whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

He stills for a second, looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes, then traces my lips with his fingers.

“I love you, Gil,” he says, even as his hips begin to roll slightly again. “You know that, right?”

“And I love you, Nick. Always.”

 

Somebody once told me that sex without love is pointless, sad. I didn’t believe him at the time; sex was fun, energizing, it made me feel good. I realize now that at the time I just didn’t have a measure of comparison.

Because sex with love is pure ecstasy.

In the wrap-up of its sexual compatibility questionnaire, Cosmpolitan said something similar albeit couched in more practical language: “Cosmo Girl, don’t despair if you’re not sexually compatible! If you love each other, you have all the time in the world to find out what works for the two of you. Just be clear about your needs and attentive to his, don’t be afraid to try new things, and everything will turn out fine!”