So, I was busily writing a Castle fic and I had a burst of inspiration (so to speak). I knew that this particular scene just HAD to be a Cal/ Gillian one shot so what better reason than as a belated birthday SMUTASTIC SATURDAY for Lightwoman. I know, I know, you'd rather have Hungover but at least it's a little something specially for you! Hope it's to your liking!
To everyone else, Happy Smutastic Saturday!
Disclaimer: Who the hell DOES own this series any more anyway? I know it's not me.
Her office door was closed again.
It seemed that ever since she had opened her home and her heart to him, this door that he often needed just as much, was almost always closed.
They had agreed of course. He would respect the fact that she needed some space for herself, a place that was hers and hers alone. A place to offer or refuse to him as she saw fit without any argument and this was it: Her office.
He had walked past the door eight times now, each time feigning an excuse to take that particular path. At each pass he hesitated, fist half raised to knock, just a moment and then moved on again with a barely perceptible shake of his head.
The truth was simple. He was afraid she would say no.
If she refused him entry to this space she had designated as her sacred Foster space, he didn't know if he had the willpower to respect her wishes without it driving him absolutely over the edge.
He gathered himself again, glanced around surreptitiously to make sure Loker wasn't lurking in the shadows, threw his shoulders back (ignoring the twinge in the small of his back when he did so), and placed his knuckles lightly against the glass.
"Come in." Her voice floated mellifluously out to him.
He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding and assumed his usual skulking lope as he pushed open the door and crossed the room.
Her feet were propped up on her desk and crossed at the ankles. His eyes traced her legs to where they disappeared under her skirt. He tried to continue to follow the smooth flesh to the apex of her thighs but his gaze was thwarted by cleverly created shadows. She held a large bowl filled with some type of square fruit pieces on her lap and idly stabbed at one with a fork as she greeted him with a sly smile. "'Bout time," she smirked, popping the yellow square into her mouth.
"Well," he began lamely, "I wanted to make sure you had enough time to yourself, you know, in your space. The space that is yours and not, as it were, mine." He placed his hand on his chest dramatically.
Her eyes narrowed. "You were afraid I wouldn't let you in weren't you?"
"Naw, 'course not."
Her eyes narrowed further and she cocked her head to the side, waiting.
"Well, yes," he admitted, "perhaps I was a bit uncertain about these new guidelines for your office."
"Rules, Cal. They're not guidelines." She pulled her feet from the desk and stood up, setting the half-full bowl on the edge of the desk, and moved to stand in front of him. She trailed a hand slowly down his shirt, smoothing the wrinkled fabric with her fingertips, and stepped in close. "They're rules. My office; My rules."
Her hand came to rest at the back of his neck and he bent low at the insistent pressure of her fingers.
"Thank you for respecting them," she whispered against his lips as his mouth descended hungrily on hers.
Her mouth was cool and sweet, flavored by whatever it was she had been eating. Her chin was slightly sticky against his and he moved his lips down to suckle the sugary nectar from her skin. "You taste delicious, love. What in the world have you been eating?" His hands began to roam her backside as she moved to tease his earlobe with her teeth.
"Pineapple," she whispered.
He drew back and looked at her with one raised eyebrow, "pineapple?"
"Yes, pineapple," she defended. "What in the world can you possibly have against pineapple?" She shoved off his chest and walked back to her desk, the moment obviously over.
"I assure you, I have nothing against pineapple per se…I just thought it would be something more exotic like guava, or mango, or maybe passion fruit." He slipped his arms around her before she could fully retreat.
"I like pineapple, besides, pineapple has many unexpected benefits." She turned in his arms and her eyes met his with a playful twinkle.
"Oh really," he growled, "such as?"
"It makes things taste better."
"Certainly does," he lowered his lips to hers again but she turned her head at the last moment, giving him her cheek so she could continue.
"Not those things, Cal, other things."
He looked at her in confusion. "What other things?"
"Other things," she said slowly, glancing down at the space where their bodies touched before meeting his eye.
Understanding broke over his face. "Oh! Oh, you mean other things. Well, that IS quite interesting but no need to resort to fruit poisoning Foster. I crave the taste of you 24/7 as it is." His hands moved to the buttons of her blouse and she made no move to stop him.
She smiled. "I eat a lot of pineapple. SOME people could stand a little more pineapple in their diet."
His hands froze. "Are you saying…What are you saying exactly?"
"I'm saying you live on garlic, onions, and beans on toast. I don't really have a problem with it but you know…just saying."
Her eyes told him that she was at least half serious. "Tell you what, Foster. I will eat this entire bowl of pineapple right now on one little condition."
"What's that?"
"Take your clothes off."
"That easy huh?" She smiled playfully.
"That easy. Take your clothes off and lie down on the couch and pineapple becomes my new favorite food."
She turned away from him and he thought for one moment that he had pushed too hard against her new rules. Before he knew it however, her blouse slipped from her shoulders and to the floor. She tossed him a mischievous glance over her shoulder. "Lock the door."
He'd never obeyed an order more quickly in his life. By the time he locked the door and rid himself of his shirt, he turned back to see Gillian draped across the sofa clad in nothing but her black pumps, her ankles once again crossed and propped up on the back of the couch. She had placed the bowl of pineapple in her lap.
"Have I mentioned lately that I am the luckiest man on the planet, darling?" He fumbled at the buttons of his fly and finally rid himself of his jeans and briefs. He knelt on the couch next to where her legs rested. Taking the bowl from her lap, he placed it on the back of the sofa as well. He extracted one dripping yellow square and placed it in his mouth. The fibrous fruit flooded his mouth with sweet juice. It was actually quite pleasant and well chilled. "One down." He tossed her a grin and turned toward her legs.
He lifted her calf and lowered it so that one foot now rested on the floor, opening her to him completely. He then placed another piece of pineapple between his teeth and began planting a tiny string of wet sticky kisses along her shapely leg. He raised her ankle so that beads of juice ran down her calf, past her knee, and tickled her thigh.
"Cal," she gasped breathlessly as he placed a fresh piece of fruit in his mouth and ran it over the sensitive flesh behind her knee, letting the cool juice flow down toward the curve of her bottom.
"A man could get used to this fruit thing, you know?" His lips reached her thigh, tracing the path of the juice he had allowed to escape.
He hovered over the apex of her thighs for a moment and it was all she could do to keep from grasping his head and pulling him down. She had never imagined being so turned on by fruit.
When he raised his head again, Gillian let out a frustrated moan and he chuckled quietly. He popped two more dripping cubes in his mouth and leaned over her, placing a hand above her shoulder to brace himself. He withdrew one piece and slowly traced a path around her nipples in a lazy figure 8. His mouth followed the path he had created, pausing every so often to tease at her nipple with his teeth.
She twisted and writhed beneath him, gasping each time cool rivulets of pineapple juice descended over her ribs toward her navel.
He reached up to the bowl and his fingers closed over the final piece of fruit. "Last one Foster, I think you may have made a pineapple convert out of me."
Her eyes were glassy with desire and he knew she wouldn't wait much longer. He placed the cool cube against her parted lips, letting the juice run from his fingers into her mouth. She held his hand in place for a moment, suckling the sweetness from his fingertips as his cock twitched and ached between his thighs.
He trailed the pineapple in a slow steady line from her chin, to her sternum, to her navel, over her belly and paused just above the fine growth of hair that marked her sex. He shifted his position slightly and lowered his head to her.
Instead of using his mouth as she expected, he circled her clit teasingly with the still-chilled fruit. The upper half of her body came up off the couch and she cried out involuntarily, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the sound.
He grabbed the pillow from the end of the couch and handed it up to her. "Bite down on this love, we don't need the whole office in here."
"Cal, I don't need a…Oh!" She bit down hard.
He trailed the pineapple in a tight line between her clit and her entrance as the fingers of his other hand gently slipped inside of her. She twisted beneath him and he waited a moment for her to regain control. Finally, he dipped the fruit just inside of her and withdrew it. He brought it to his lips and savored the sweet and tangy mingling of her flavor with that of the pineapple. "Delicious," he moaned, as he bent his head to lap at her sex.
It was clear that Gillian was quickly approaching the edge. Her muffled cries became more plaintive, her hands knotted in the hair at the back of his head. When her thighs began to quiver, he made his move.
Before she was even aware of what was happening, he moved up her body and slipped inside of her with a harsh grunt. He ripped the pillow from her grasp and covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries as he thrust into her again and again. He brought her back to the edge with an added twist of his hips at each collision and now she with quivering beneath him, her body reaching for release with each brush of his body against hers. Finally, he felt her break in a pulsing trembling rush that threatened to push him from her body. He held onto her hip and drove himself toward the orgasm that he could already feel beginning at the base of his spine.
With a final desperate effort, he threw himself into the flame of sensation that ripped through him. The cry that tore from his throat began somewhere near his toes and was muffled by the long-fingered hand that cupped his mouth in the final seconds of his pleasure agony.
He was aware of nothing for a long time but the tiny sparks behind his eyes and the harsh rasp of his own breathing. When he thought he might safely attempt movement again, he shifted to the side and discovered the serious downside to pineapple. They were both very sticky. Still, overall, as far as fruit went, he had to admit that pineapple certainly had quite a bit to recommend it.
Gillian ran a gummy hand over his sweat-dampened back. "If this is what I have to do to get you to eat fruit, I'm in."
"If this is what I have to do to get you to eat…well, you know. I am SO in, love." He nuzzled at her neck.
She giggled. "I suppose turn about is fair play but if it's all the same to you, I have work I need to do."
"You can work after that?"
"Yes, and so can you, after you get us a washcloth or two of course." She swiped at the trail of juice on the back of the couch. "Definitely two," she said.
"Why do I have to be the one to go out and face the music?"
"What music?"
"The music that is all of our employees pointing and laughing at the fact that I have pineapple juice from ear to ear, darling."
"Oh, I see."
"Yes."
"Oh well, my office; my rules," she grinned.
He gave her a pathetic hang-dog look. "S'riously?"
"Seriously."
I miss this this more than you all know.
XOXO
Kat