Table Stakes, Revisited

TABLE STAKES, REVISITED

~~3: N3: NOTHING BUT SKIN~~

Rating: NC-17
Chapter Summary: Third in series, following "Doing The Room." Catherine and Gil's actions once again catch up with them....


*****

Catherine sighed as she made her way through the halls of the Vegas crime lab, staring at the floor as her mind conjured up images from the past evening and this morning. She and Gil made love... at a crime scene, no less, but this wasn't what was bugging her. There had been no evidence found, save for a tooth in a fireplace, so it wasn't as if they had contaminated anything. No... it was the fact that Gil had hardly said one word to her since it happened that was bugging her. With the way he'd been behaving, she almost questioned if it really happened at all, or if it was just a dream.

She smiled just slightly as she walked, resolving that, if it *had* been a dream, it was the most real and vivid dream she'd ever experienced. She could still feel every touch... her skin pleasantly tingling at the mere memory of it. She could feel his fingertips, gliding over her abdomen and down her legs as he rid her of her pants. She could feel his lips, kissing their way up her legs.... she could feel his tongue, skillfully mastering every erogenous zone as if he'd made love to her a thousand times in the past. And most vividly of all, she felt him inside her... completing her like no one else had been able to.

She shivered, rubbing up and down on her arms, and that was when the scent hit her nostrils. His scent... probably engrained into the fibers of her shirt and absorbed into every inch of her skin.... that light cologne she'd given him mixed with some brand of soap she couldn't recognize. As she inhaled deeply, relishing the wonderful scent she'd absorbed, she had to wonder--now that she'd absorbed him... absorbed every fiber of his being into her soul... would he allow things to stay that way? Or would she be forced to give him up... and go back to pretending that nothing had changed?

As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her. Greg was there in all his glory, the head dress of Portia Richmond she'd recovered from the Liberace museum atop his head... doing can-can kicks while chanting something about a match. She raised an eyebrow, wanting to burst into hysterics, but holding back. It was amazing to her how much of him was still a little boy. But she loved that about him. She loved that, in their morbid world of homicides, rapes, and otherwise, Greg was always there to add a little humor and to pick everyone up.

"MATCH!" He shouted, doing a poor imitation of 'jazz-hands' while grinning widely at her.

She raised an eyebrow once more, unable to suppress the smile making its way across her lips. "Y'mind taking that thing off your head, Greg? It's evidence."

"Cool your jets, Cath," he conceded her teasingly. "I already got all the evidence out of it. Now, it's all woman." He glanced down toward his chest, playing with the beads dangling from the head piece. "Did you ever wear one of these things when you were dancing?"

"I wore nothing but skin," she breathed seductively, narrowing her eyes at him flirtatiously.

"Ooh..." He grinned playfully.

She cleared her throat as a signal to Greg, her eyes catching on the one standing behind him... Grissom. Greg spun and, upon seeing Grissom staring sternly at him, he smiled sheepishly and removed the head dress, attempting to hide the gigantic thing behind his back. "I, uh, compared the DNA from the tooth with the follicles found inside the head-dress. I think we have a match, sir. And I think we may have a homicide." Sensing the tension surrounding the three of them, he bowed his head. "Excuse me..." then headed back into the DNA lab.

Catherine attempted to rid herself of the smile on her face, catching sight of the stern glare Grissom's face retained. He held her gaze, eyes flitting back toward Greg only briefly before meeting hers once more. "I need to see you in my office," he stated plainly, his voice low and devoid of any decipherable emotion.

Catherine drew in a quick breath, heart beginning to race at the thought of what he would need to see her about. And that look on his face... true, it could've been just directed at Greg for his childish antics... but he could also be regretting what had happened ben ten them earlier that morning.

Silently, she followed him to his office, stepping inside when he opened the door for her, not bothering to turn around once he'd closed the door behind them. "Gil, listen," she began, still unwilling to turn and meet his eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened with Greg out there... but you know how he is--"

Without warning, a hand reached out and grabbed her elbow, spinning her around just in time for her to see him turning the lock on his door. "No more talking," he growled, and pressed his lips to hers aggressively.

"Mm--" She struggled against him only briefly before her brain caught up with her and asked just why the hell she would do such a thing as put up a struggle. Instead, she melted against him, almost collapsing really as his hands began working their magic, divesting her of her clothes.

Their tongues fought heatedly, each one seeking to control the other, while they fumbled their way around his office, crashing into tables and chairs as if they were intoxicated. When he had her backed against his desk, his lips sought out the skin on her neck, his arms focusing on their task of clearing the desk... pushing papers, staplers, paperweights, and the telephone onto the tile floor... not giving a damn if anything got ruined. "Gil," she whispered, floored by his animalistic behavior... "Don't you think we should talk about this? About what happened before?"

His sky blue eyes bored into her as his hands grasped her thighs. "What did I tell you?" he asked, almost angrily as he gripped her thighs, tugging on them and flipping her onto her back, pinning her wrists to the desk. He leaned over her, his lips but a breath away from hers as he added slowly in a low growl, "No... more... talking."

His lips then crashed down upon hers once more, and she was a goner. She had all she could do to keep from yelling his name as his hands, lips, and tongue worked her body to a fever pitch. She threw her head back, her hair nearing the floor as her neck craned over the edge of the desk, snapping back upward again when she got the shock of her life... his head between her legs. "Oh God, Gil!" She cried, her spine slamming against his desk as she collapsed back against it, her head thrashing from side to side. She didn't care if the whole lab could hear her now... she needed him desperately.

As if sensing her need, he quickly stripped himself and climbed up onto the desk with her, sliding effortlessly inside her. She moaned her approval and arched her back, the feel of her chest pressing against his causing him to groan loudly. Their pace was frantic... almost warp-speed as a white-hot intensity took over them both. "Oh God Cath, I'm close..." he managed to grunt, and she leaned up to kiss his neck.

"Stay with me," she begged.

"Oh, God..." His chin fell to his chest as he closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to wait for her. He leaned down to kiss and nip at her neck, his thumb finding the tiny bundle of nerves at her center.

She threw her head back at the sensation, a dull ache emanating through the back of her skull as she banged it on the desk. The pain quickly dissipated however, as a new feeling began to overwhelm her, and she was powerless to control the volume of her voice... "Oh, GIL!" ...as she went crashing over the edge.

He grunted her name as his climax overwhelhim him seconds later, holding her tight to his body as he tensed and shuddered. They then collapsed together against the desk, and everything went silent. The only sounds in the room were that of their labored breathing... and the phone, the incessant beeping noise signifying that it had been left off the hook.

Their attention turned to it briefly before their eyes met, and they chuckled breathlessly... both unsure of whether it was because they'd looked at the phone in unison, or because of their impetuous behavior. When the laughter had stopped they stared into each other's eyes for an extended moment, before Gil leaned down to kiss her passionately, smiling as she hummed her approval against his lips... her arms snaking under his as she pulled him tight to her in an embrace.

"So..." she murmured, almost wincing at the awkward way she'd chosen to approach the subject. "I know I was instructed not to talk anymore, but..."

He laughed. "Yes, we can talk about it now." Pulling out of her, he slowly stood, extending a hand to pull her up moments later, smiling at her obviously shaky legs.

She blushed. "What?" she snipped defensively. "That's what you do to me, I can't help it!"

He chuckled. "Hey, I'm flattered. Never been able to turn a woman into a walking jello mold before."

She glared facetiously at him, pulling her clothes back on. "Don't get ahead of yourself there," she teased, and laughed when he feigned a pout. She leaned in to kiss those pouting lips, smiling against them.

The sound of both of their pagers going off startled them both, and they glanced down to turn them back on in unison. "Brass..." Gil muttered, and began to dress hurriedly. "He's probably got something new on the Haynes couple."

Catherine nodded, glancing at the screen of her beeper. "Says he wants us to meet him at Le Cirque in ten minutes."

Gil nodded his response and finished throwing on his clothes in a flurry of movement, grabbing his keys out of the pile of stuff that had been pushed to the floor. "Meet you at the Tahoe!" he called, then practically ran out the door.

Catherine shook her head, staring at the closed door, before sighing and leaning down to pick up her purse. "So much for talking about it..." she breathed, then followed Gil out to the car.

~FINIS~