Title: Let Them Eat Cake
Rating: NC-17
Authors: seattlecsifan and csigeekfan as… seattlecsigeek
Summary: Grissom really, really likes his cake, and Sara knows just how to feed him.
Disclaimer: CBS/Paramount owns CSI and the characters. We are simply borrowing the characters for fun, and not monetary gain. Please don't sue us.
A/N: These two companion pieces were written by CSIGeekFan and Seattlecsifan as a collaborative effort.
We'd like to dedicate them to UnaLovesU2 and kiritambo over at who threw down the challenge for us to write a fiction that involved Grissom's beard, curls, and bare chest.
They were a lot of fun for us to write. We hope you enjoy them.
These two pieces both contain explicit sexual content. Please read responsibly.
Sara's Point of View
I've discovered a lot about Gil Grissom since we first moved in together. One of the most surprising things I've found is that he has a sweet tooth. And he'll do almost anything to satisfy that sweet tooth.
I'd always thought my love of cake for breakfast was a little strange, but my passion for sweets is nothing compared to Grissom's.
Sometimes that works to my advantage. Now, I've always got a bargaining chip when I need one.
Last night when I was getting ready for bed and spied yet another rash on my neck, I decided it was time to do something about his beard. It was serendipitous really, because I also knew that there was only one piece of carrot cake left in the refrigerator, and it was now a bargaining chip.
I quietly made my way to the kitchen to remove that last slice of sugary temptation and hide it in the oven. I had a plan. A decidedly evil plan. I then put together a few things to hide with the cake, for an extra little surprise.
Now, standing in the shower, I go over my plan once again. I find I'm rushing through my morning ablutions so I can go find out what Grissom's doing in the kitchen.
I walk down the hallway and stick my head around the doorframe to find him standing in front of the refrigerator searching through the contents. It's time to implement my plan.
"What're you looking for, hon?" I ask innocently, trying to keep the chuckle out of my voice.
"That piece of carrot cake," he answers, in that little boy voice he uses when he's trying to get his own way.
I walk up behind him and run a hand across his broad back. My plan is falling into place perfectly.
When Grissom closes the fridge and turns to look at me, I move in for the kill.
"Oh, I think I can help you with that," I say, as I trail my hand slowly over his chest and step closer to whisper, "I think I can help a lot."
Grissom leans into me, murmuring, "Oh really?"
I reach up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck and feel Grissom slip his hand under my robe; he starts to nibble on the corner of my lips. The touch of his warm hand on my skin makes be suck in my breath and his tongue quickly follows the air into my mouth.
I can feel the evidence of Grissom's arousal as he slips his other hand under my robe, pulling me against him to rub his erection against my hip. Both of my hands have now strayed to his curls, pulling him even closer. When Grissom moves his mouth down to suck the flesh of my throat I feel the scrape of his beard and remember the plan. It's time to spring my trap.
I take a few quick steps back and tell him, "Oh, no… I've gotten beard burn three times since you grew that back, and it hasn't even been a month." I plant my hands on my hips, opening my robe wider.
I can tell I've got him by the glazed look in his eyes - that is once he can stop staring at my body and look me in the eyes.
"I have a special piece of carrot cake for you," I dangle the bait. When I see that I've got his attention I add, "If you shave off your beard." With that I turn and walk away.
Grissom follows me blindly down the hall and into the bathroom. He raises his arms docilely as I slide my hands up his smooth belly and over his chest to pull his clean white t-shirt over his head.
He sits down on a stool as I spray shaving cream into the palm of my hand and rub it into his beard. The smell of it causes a twinge of arousal to pulse at the juncture of my thighs. I now associate this smell with the very erotic ritual of shaving my lover.
"Do you trust me?" I ask, as I step up close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
The reply is always the same, but it still shoots a thrill of electricity through me when he replies, "Intimately."
My mouth is dry and I have to swallow several times before I reach up to cradle the side of his head with my palm and scrape the cutthroat razor down the side of his face. I can hear the razor cutting his whiskers with each pass of the blade.
Grissom's body is giving off waves of heat like a blast furnace. I step closer to start the other side of his face and his thigh nearly burns mine where we touch.
When he reaches out to touch my side I have to admonish him, "Oh, no, baby. Not yet. You're almost done." My breath catches in my throat when I hear him groan, but after all, I am holding a blade to his jugular.
Grissom is so zoned out he doesn't even notice that I've finished until I kiss him and tell him, "All done."
Leaving him sitting in the bathroom to towel off his newly shaved face I walk quickly into the kitchen to grab the cake and my little surprise, trying to beat him back into the bedroom. I leave a trail down the hallway with my robe and panties.
Laying naked on the bed I slip the cake onto my bare chest. I'm certainly glad that I hid the cake in the oven overnight instead of the freezer. I close my eyes and stretch my arms over my head, hoping that the smirk I'm trying to conceal doesn't ruin the seductive pose I'm going for.
From the sound of Grissom ripping off his clothes to join me on the bed, I think I've got things right. I feel the dip of the bed as Grissom sits next to me and after a moment I feel his warm breath on my chest.
Suddenly I feel something cool on my nipple, immediately followed by the warm tug of Grissom's lips. The contrast of the different temperatures is incredibly erotic and I can't help but squirm against his body.
"My cake. I get to eat it how I want. Hold still," he whispers hoarsely.
I look down to watch as Grissom slowly nibbles his treat. He's enjoying himself, licking up bits of icing to paint on my nipples with his tongue, before he slurps it back off. First one breast, then the other, and then back to the first. With each tug and nip I feel a throb go straight to my core.
By the time he finishes off the icing and begins on the cake, I'm about ready to come undone. I grasp the sheets as I struggle to lie still on the bed; I can't help but whimper and moan.
Grissom slowly slides a hand down between my thighs and grazes my wetness with his finger. It's not nearly enough, I need more. A shiver of passion runs down my body and pools where he's touching me.
"Do you want this?" he asks as he teases me with his fingertip.
I swallow convulsively, but still have to resort to a nod when I can't find my voice. He slips a finger into me deeply, thrusting in and out, and it feels so good I moan loudly; he thrusts a second finger in with the first, making me feel more complete.
Now, there are only a few crumbs of cake left on my chest, and Grissom is licking them off. His smooth, freshly shaved cheek's a startling contrast to his nubbly tongue.
Grissom swiftly replaces his fingers with his straining cock. I wrap my legs around his back to pull him deeper and slip a hand between our bodies to rub my swollen clit. I'm so close it only takes a few moments before I feel an earth shattering climax roll over me, my muscles clenching tightly.
When my spasms finally ease, I feel Grissom's hard cock is still inside me. I open my eyes and see him smirking down at me.
"Do you want to play a little more, Romeo?" I ask tremulously, and reach up to the nightstand for my surprise; I dip a finger into the bowl of powdered sugar frosting. When Grissom opens his mouth to ask what I'm doing, I thrust a finger laden with the confection in and let him suck it off. I pointedly glance up at the bowl of frosting before I attack his mouth with my own, savoring the added sweetness. In unison we roll over so I'm on top, Grissom still deep inside me.
I reach over to load my fingers up with some more of the sweet white mixture and drizzle it across his perfectly smooth chest, so I can lean down and lick it all up. I add a little more to his hard brown nipples and lap it off too, delighting in the guttural sounds he's making.
I can feel Grissom's hips straining under me and sit up so he can slide in a little deeper. I love to feel his cock buried in me as deep as it will go, I lean back a little further to feel his hardness against my g-spot.
Grabbing the bowl of icing, I drip a little on Grissom's smooth belly, and then rise off him to scoot down between his legs so I can lick that off too.
Watching Grissom's eyes, I drizzle the remaining frosting onto his cock. He registers shock at first, and then lust as he struggles to say, "Dear, you missed a spot."
I drop my head and start to clean the sweet goo off his engorged cock. I lick slowly up the shaft, following its throbbing vein to the sensitive slit, and then lower my mouth; taking him in entirely.
Grissom whispers, "You're going to get more than frosting, honey" and I ease off until I have just the tip between my lips. I lick the smooth broad head and then suck him in as deeply as I can, bobbing a few times until I know he's on the jagged edge.
I sit up, and we tumble over the bed as one, ending with Grissom on top - driving into me in one smooth thrust. I wrap my legs around him and urge, "Harder, baby. Oh yeah, harder." I pull him roughly against me; I want to feel him close against me as I come again.
As I slip over the edge, I whisper, "I love you," against his lips and Grissom follows; a low, growling cry coming from deep inside him as he shudders with his release.
When Grissom's labored breathing eases, he rolls us both over again, still joined. Laying against his warm, solid chest I smile to myself and whisper drowsily…
"We need more cake."
Grissom's Point of View
I know I'm frowning at the refrigerator, but when I have to pull on my reading glasses just to be sure it's gone, I have every right to frown. I swear it was here last night, because I had this nice little dream about it.
"What're you looking for, hon?" she asks me.
"That piece of carrot cake," I grumble, using a voice that Sara has on more than one occasion referred to as my cranky little boy voice. My brows knitting closer together, I dig through the contents of the shelves once more, hoping it has just gotten pushed to the back.
Her chuckling doesn't immediately register with me, until I feel her hand on the back of my t-shirt. When I stand and close the fridge, I find myself growing a tad suspicious at the look on her face; as she stands there grinning in her robe. I can usually tell when she's up to something, whether it's a blatant attempt to seduce me or that I'm about to get a surprise, based on the look in those beautiful brown eyes.
"Oh, I think I can help you with that," she says, running her hand across my chest, as I turn to face her. Then even huskier, she murmurs, "I think I can help a lot."
"Oh really?" I softly reply, enjoying the way her hand is rubbing across my chest, up my shoulders, and into my hair. Giving in to her slow, seductive movements, I barely touch her lips with mine, just lightly nibbling, as I slide my hand into her robe to caress the bare skin around her midriff. When she gasps, I take advantage of her parted lips, and slide my tongue in to taste the mint of her mouthwash. That combined with the taste of her is enough to have me getting hard. As I wrap my other hand into her robe, she ---
Yanks back. Rapidly. Enough to leave me feeling a little wobbly and slightly desperate.
"Oh no," she says, panting slightly, her peach silk robe now open, exposing the flesh between her breasts and an enticing amount of the sweet swelling of those mounds. The only other fabric I see on her is her typical pair of cotton panties, which she laughingly refers to as 'serviceable'. It's all I can do to move my attention back to her face.
"I've gotten beard burn three times since you grew that back, and it hasn't even been a month," I hear her say. Oh dear God, she's parting the robe a little, is all I can think. It doesn't even register when she says, "I have a special piece of carrot cake for you. If you shave off your beard."
I'm just nodding dumbly now, because my cock is straining hard, pushing against my sweats. I'm not sure how I'm even standing. For that matter, I'm not sure how I end up in the bathroom and without a shirt, either. All I know is she's now lathering up my short, tidy beard. What she asks next isn't new. It's become a part of the ritual, and one of the main reasons I grow a beard to begin with.
"Do you trust me?" she asks.
"Intimately," I reply, the answer absolute. The next part is my favorite.
I'm sitting on a stool in front of her, as she leans in. I can smell the combination of shampoo, soap, and her. She once tried to prove a theory in spontaneous human combustion. It must exist, because every part of me is throbbing as I feel her breath across my skin. With every stroke of the razor, she leans in a little, giving me a glimpse of hardened nipples and soft flesh under the loose robe. Part of me registers I should show at least a little concern about the fact that she's holding a razor over my pulsing jugular, while she's having difficulty breathing.
When I reach out a hand to touch the soft flesh around her waist, she pulls back.
"Oh no, baby," she murmurs on short, rapid breaths. "Not yet. You're almost done."
She has no idea how right she is, because I feel on the verge of exploding. In an attempt to not end up reacting like a teenage boy and shooting my cum into my pants prematurely, I count to ten, and try to think of the lab. However, her hand in my hair makes me moan instead; and as I feel like I can't take it anymore, she kisses me softly and says, "All done."
Then she just leaves the room. For a second, I stare after her, wondering, What the hell? The smile forms on its own, though, when I remember her promise; a special piece of carrot cake. Making my way to the kitchen, I don't find her. However, trailing down the hall is her robe, followed by those cotton whites, laying in the doorway to the bedroom.
There, exposed on the bed, is my carrot cake, strategically placed between the two most luscious breasts on the planet. God, she can make me feel like I'm nineteen again.
It doesn't take much for me to shed the t-shirt and sweats I'd thrown on. Moving slowly toward the bed, I crawled on, and lay on my side. Her eyes are closed, and her arms are splayed above her head, giving full access to the absolute buffet of tastes in front of me. However, I can play this game, too.
She smiles like a cat that ate the cream, when she feels my breath on her sternum. That playful grin makes her mouth fall open, though, when I flick some icing from the cake and swirl it around a taut nipple, sucking softly at first, then just a bit harder. When she begins to writhe a little, I lean down and whisper, "My cake. I get to eat it how I want. Hold still."
I go to work using my tongue to spread icing, sucking and stroking each nipple, over and over. The playful look is gone, as she tries to remain still. The whimpers are making my cock pulse with every sound from her throat.
Licking every last ounce of sugary cream from her breasts, I lean over her and take a small bite of the carrot cake, letting her feel the edge of my teeth against her skin. The rough gasp she lets out makes me moan.
When I shift to lean down over her body, my fingers go lower still, to the apex of her thighs. She's so damn wet. Her hazy brown eyes are staring at me when I look up at her and I thickly ask, "Do you want this?" as I slide the tip of a finger barely into her. Part of me is gleeful at the fact that she can't seem to speak, and instead gives a short nod, so I slide a single finger into her, as I nip another bite of my cake.
When I slide my finger out, she lets out a guttural moan, like something's been lost, and I thrust it back in. Her raspy breathing has gone ragged, and as I take another bite of cake, I find myself stretching her with an additional finger. With each thrust, I'm consuming more and more, growing harder than I had even in my prime. After the last bite is gone, and I'm licking and sucking the crumbs from between the mounds, I increase the tempo, before removing my fingers.
The glazed, questioning look on her face has me smiling. Damn, but it's nice knowing I can make her feel so… consumed… by what we do together. Settling myself between her, she wraps those long, supple legs around my waist, as I slide into her. It only takes a couple thrusts, with her hand rubbing her clit, before I feel her muscles spasm around my cock; but I'm not done yet, and when I settle inside her as she continues to clench and unclench me, I have to fight every impulse to give in.
Eventually, her muscles slowly melt, until she comes back down from that high, and smiles at me.
"Do you want to play a little more, Romeo?" she asks, lazily moving on me. I clench my teeth, not wanting the feeling to end yet… or ever. This is my favorite place to be – hard inside Sara. If I could even think right now, I'd probably say something witty. Instead, I grunt. Just as I've decided to drive into her and empty my cum across those walls, she pulls back.
As I open my mouth to say something, I feel her finger on my lips, and the taste is… scrumptious. My brows knit in confusion, I watch her gaze wander to the nightstand. Pulling my attention back to her by kissing me with a hot open mouth, I groan and find myself rolling onto my back. When she slides down onto my cock, I draw a harsh breath. I'd be satisfied dying right here, embedded thickly in her.
Her long, slender index finger dips into the icing, and I close my eyes at the feel of it running over my pec and across a nipple. When the tip of her tongue follows it down, I groan, an urgent need driving my hips up. Shifting slightly, the movement of her hot slickness wrapped around me makes breathing difficult, and she drizzles a touch more of the oozing liquid across my chest.
Her tongue feels so good, I barely contain myself when she sits back and I rock deeper into her, my balls being caressed by the pressure of her. I watch her eyes go dark and deep again, as she tilts back a little, rocking just a touch.
When she leans forward again, it's to drip more frosting across me; this time my belly. I moan when she scoots back a little on her hands and knees, between my legs, in order to gain access to the sweet confection. There's something amazingly erotic about watching her tongue move around my skin, teasing and stroking. When she looks into my eyes, I can't tear my gaze away. I have no idea what she's doing until I feel the thick, cool liquid drip over my cock. Now I recognize the look in her eyes. She wants to play with me.
Slowly smiling, I try for a sexy drawl, but end up gasping, "Dear. You… missed… a… spot," and watch as she adds just a bit more. For a moment, I swear my eyes are about to cross, as I watch her head dip down and her tongue slowly lick from the base to the tip of my engorged member. Then, I'm blind, tilting my head back with eyes squeezed shut.
Her tongue does amazing things, but when her mouth closes over me, I'm so close to the edge, I rasp, "You're going to get more than frosting, honey." As her mouth encases me her tongue swirls around the tip. For a few seconds, I think she hasn't heard me. The stroking is now accompanied by slurping and sucking. Then I don't care.
When I don't feel like I can take anymore, I reach down and run my hands through her hair, my breath harsh and rapid, and my hips thrusting toward her. I suck in a breath, as I feel on the edge of pumping every ounce of my own cream into her mouth to mix with the sugary sweetness she's sucking off me, and groan when that very mouth leaves me. It all happens so fast, between sucking me off and my flipping her over and driving into her, the details are hazy.
I feel those legs wrap around me again, and my cock feels like its swelling. Tilting my forehead down, laying it across hers, I feel her back arch, and she murmurs, "Harder, baby. Oh yeah, harder," as I pound into her. She's got her fingernails on my shoulders, and I can feel them begin to dig in as she cries out my name.
It's the murmured, "I love you," that tumbles from her lips as she clenches around me once more, that pushes me over the precipice. As I lay sloppily propped on my elbows, barely breathing, and smiling down on my dearest Sara, I softly lean down and kiss her, before rolling us, still connected.
As I slowly drift into a doze, I hear her softly murmur the most beautiful words.
"We need more cake."