FF: Bugman and the Baleful Bumblebee [Alphabet Challenge - B]
Author: Emily
Rating: R
Category: CG humour
AN: The next instalment in my 26 fic challenge! (2 down, 24 to go ... runs off screaming into the night)
Dedication: To Gomes, coz she needed the smut.
"I still can't believe you're gardening," he says, mouth playfully agape.
"Shut up," I retort, swiping a dirt-encrusted glove over my forehead. And then, of course, I remember the bit about the dirt on the glove. "Shit."
"You have a little something right there," he says, outlining his entire forehead to show me. He smirks, and I toss a tulip bulb at him, which hits him square in the chest. I stick my tongue out.
There's a sudden buzzing near my ear, and I freak out. "Bee," I yelp, jumping up from my spot in front of the garden. "Make it go away!" I shriek, running past Gil and ducking behind a tree.
And I can't believe it. He's laughing at me. Not just chuckling, outright guffawing, his hand on his stomach as he doubles over. "Cath, that's a honey bee. It's not going to sting you."
"How do you know?" I demand, then frown as I remember that little PhD he has in entomology.
"Cath, honey bees don't sting. Well, all bees sting, but only if they're provoked. A honey bee is about the most placid bee you could find."
"I don't care," I say stubbornly. "I hate bees."
"Studies have shown that having a negative attitude towards any animal, be it a bee or a bear, can actually alter your image to them, and provoke them to attack," he recites, an annoying all-knowingness to his words.
"I don't care," I mutter again. "That bee can kiss my ass."
I can see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly I feel a prick in my lower back. Although it's more like a gargantuan, ten-foot hypodermic needle filled with hydrochloric acid has been injected into my rear end. No, it feels like a bullet. Oh my God.
"Fucking hell!" I scream, jumping about four feet into the air. "I've been shot! Someone shot me!"
He simply smiles benignly at me. I've been shot, God dammit, and he's just standing there grinning? I'm dying! Some friend!
"Told you so," he states.
"That wasn't a bee, it was a .45!"
He rolls his eyes and kneels in front of me, his hands grasping my hips and turning me around. He pulls the top of my jean cutoffs down slightly, and traces the sting with his finger.
"Well? Did you find the bullet? The ten-foot long needle? The Masai spear?" I whine.
"I found the remains of that poor bee. May she rest in peace," he says.
"It hurts!" I whimper childishly.
"Shall I kiss it better?"
"Nothing will ever ease this horrible pain, Gil. I'm on my deathbed here."
"Hmm," he replies, and then I feel his lips on the spot. Oh my. As much as I hate to admit it, the sting is waning, replaced now with intense desire flooding me as his hands grip my waist. "Feel better?" he asks, standing.
"No," I say, reaching out to wrap my hands around his shoulders. "Because you stopped. I think I need more healing. In the bedroom."
"I think I can handle that. I am a doctor, you know."
"A doctor of bugs," I scoff.
"Hey, a PhD is a PhD, my dear."
"Bite me, Bugman."
"I intend to."
"Oh, so we're playing rough?"
"We're playing it however you want, Cath. I picked last time," he says, nuzzling my ear as I reach for his hand and pull him inside.
"Yeah, that's true. I never figured you for a role player."
"Admit it. You loved the whole Bad Cop routine."
"Sad but true. Hey, I'm not complaining. Although at one point you reminded me of Jim, and that freaked the hell out of me."
"Creepy."
"Extremely," I reply as I pull his t-shirt over his head.
"But you liked the handcuffs," he comments as his lips latch onto my neck.
"Mmm, yeah. I liked it even more when you took them off and I could finally touch you."
"That was the best part," he agrees, his fingers prising my button and fly apart. The shorts slip down my legs, and I step out of them and ... oh holy hell, his fingers are caressing me through my panties. I push into his hand, eager for more contact, and he pulls away, grinning mischievously.
"Bastard," I swear.
He smiles a simpering, yet disgustingly handsome smile and backs out of my reach, his hands making quick work of his own garments. His boxers are last, and I can't help but remark, "So bees turn you on that much, huh?"
I really want to touch him. I know it's not exactly poetic, or even really decent, for that matter, but I think I need to announce that Gil Grissom has an extraordinary penis.
And then, of course, there's that look in his eye. The one I've grown to know and love. The one that says 'I need you, now.' I really like that look. I make quick work of my shirt and panties and kneel beside him on the bed.
"How's the sting?" he asks, gasping as I touch a finger to his erection.
"The what? Oh, that. Fine. You have magic lips," I reply, my own lips brushing lightly over the head.
"M-my lips? Nothing compared to ... mmm ... yours," he moans, his back arching as my tongue strokes the underside of his shaft.
"Hmm," I say in response, causing his eyes to roll back in his head and his hand to tangle in my hair.
He begins to hum in time with my mouth, and I feel him tense and wait for the explosion, but instead his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me off him.
"Wha-?"
"I want to be inside you when I ..." he trails off and blushes crimson.
"Come? Orgasm? Blow? Explode?"
He just shakes his head and pulls me onto his stomach. "You talk too much, you know that?"
"Blame it on the magic lips," I sigh as I lower myself, painstakingly slowly, onto him.
"God, Catherine," he groans. "I love you."
"Are you just saying that to make me go faster? 'Cause that's not gonna work on me."
He opens an eye and glares at me. "You know I mean it."
"You know I'm kidding."
He opens both eyes and focusses intently on me. Uh oh, I've seen that look before. I'm in for it now.
"I love you, Catherine, but you're driving me insane. In more ways than one."
With that, he flips us so that he's on top, hovering over me. Then he's inside me, and oh my fucking God, he feels amazing. I can't begin to describe it. It's just ... Gil. His mouth attacks mine as I wrap my legs high around his waist, our tongues moving in time with our rapidly accelerating frenzy.
"Faster ... oh God, Gil, harder," I whimper, my fingernails raking over his back to grasp at his ass, pulling him deeper within me, deeper into oblivion.
"So close ... Catherine," he pants, his face nestled in the hair above my neck. "Catherine, Catherine-Catherine-CatherineCatherineCatherine," he chants in my ear.
That's it. I can't not come when he starts to do that. I explode around him, my body tensing and shuddering in his arms as pleasure jolts through my being. I feel him thrust once more, deep inside me, before he erupts as well, his warmth spurring on a second orgasm for me. I have no idea how he does that. But I can't get enough of it.
He falls to my side, our breathing ragged yet in synch. Our hands entwine and I grin lazily at him.
"Wow," he mutters distractedly, his finger caressing my swollen lips.
"Yeah. Know what?"
"Hmm?"
"Bees are my favourite animals."
"Ah," he says, nodding sagely as he pulls me into his arms. "So can I get a bee farm for the back yard?"
"Not on your life."
End
Author: Emily
Rating: R
Category: CG humour
AN: The next instalment in my 26 fic challenge! (2 down, 24 to go ... runs off screaming into the night)
Dedication: To Gomes, coz she needed the smut.
"I still can't believe you're gardening," he says, mouth playfully agape.
"Shut up," I retort, swiping a dirt-encrusted glove over my forehead. And then, of course, I remember the bit about the dirt on the glove. "Shit."
"You have a little something right there," he says, outlining his entire forehead to show me. He smirks, and I toss a tulip bulb at him, which hits him square in the chest. I stick my tongue out.
There's a sudden buzzing near my ear, and I freak out. "Bee," I yelp, jumping up from my spot in front of the garden. "Make it go away!" I shriek, running past Gil and ducking behind a tree.
And I can't believe it. He's laughing at me. Not just chuckling, outright guffawing, his hand on his stomach as he doubles over. "Cath, that's a honey bee. It's not going to sting you."
"How do you know?" I demand, then frown as I remember that little PhD he has in entomology.
"Cath, honey bees don't sting. Well, all bees sting, but only if they're provoked. A honey bee is about the most placid bee you could find."
"I don't care," I say stubbornly. "I hate bees."
"Studies have shown that having a negative attitude towards any animal, be it a bee or a bear, can actually alter your image to them, and provoke them to attack," he recites, an annoying all-knowingness to his words.
"I don't care," I mutter again. "That bee can kiss my ass."
I can see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye, and suddenly I feel a prick in my lower back. Although it's more like a gargantuan, ten-foot hypodermic needle filled with hydrochloric acid has been injected into my rear end. No, it feels like a bullet. Oh my God.
"Fucking hell!" I scream, jumping about four feet into the air. "I've been shot! Someone shot me!"
He simply smiles benignly at me. I've been shot, God dammit, and he's just standing there grinning? I'm dying! Some friend!
"Told you so," he states.
"That wasn't a bee, it was a .45!"
He rolls his eyes and kneels in front of me, his hands grasping my hips and turning me around. He pulls the top of my jean cutoffs down slightly, and traces the sting with his finger.
"Well? Did you find the bullet? The ten-foot long needle? The Masai spear?" I whine.
"I found the remains of that poor bee. May she rest in peace," he says.
"It hurts!" I whimper childishly.
"Shall I kiss it better?"
"Nothing will ever ease this horrible pain, Gil. I'm on my deathbed here."
"Hmm," he replies, and then I feel his lips on the spot. Oh my. As much as I hate to admit it, the sting is waning, replaced now with intense desire flooding me as his hands grip my waist. "Feel better?" he asks, standing.
"No," I say, reaching out to wrap my hands around his shoulders. "Because you stopped. I think I need more healing. In the bedroom."
"I think I can handle that. I am a doctor, you know."
"A doctor of bugs," I scoff.
"Hey, a PhD is a PhD, my dear."
"Bite me, Bugman."
"I intend to."
"Oh, so we're playing rough?"
"We're playing it however you want, Cath. I picked last time," he says, nuzzling my ear as I reach for his hand and pull him inside.
"Yeah, that's true. I never figured you for a role player."
"Admit it. You loved the whole Bad Cop routine."
"Sad but true. Hey, I'm not complaining. Although at one point you reminded me of Jim, and that freaked the hell out of me."
"Creepy."
"Extremely," I reply as I pull his t-shirt over his head.
"But you liked the handcuffs," he comments as his lips latch onto my neck.
"Mmm, yeah. I liked it even more when you took them off and I could finally touch you."
"That was the best part," he agrees, his fingers prising my button and fly apart. The shorts slip down my legs, and I step out of them and ... oh holy hell, his fingers are caressing me through my panties. I push into his hand, eager for more contact, and he pulls away, grinning mischievously.
"Bastard," I swear.
He smiles a simpering, yet disgustingly handsome smile and backs out of my reach, his hands making quick work of his own garments. His boxers are last, and I can't help but remark, "So bees turn you on that much, huh?"
I really want to touch him. I know it's not exactly poetic, or even really decent, for that matter, but I think I need to announce that Gil Grissom has an extraordinary penis.
And then, of course, there's that look in his eye. The one I've grown to know and love. The one that says 'I need you, now.' I really like that look. I make quick work of my shirt and panties and kneel beside him on the bed.
"How's the sting?" he asks, gasping as I touch a finger to his erection.
"The what? Oh, that. Fine. You have magic lips," I reply, my own lips brushing lightly over the head.
"M-my lips? Nothing compared to ... mmm ... yours," he moans, his back arching as my tongue strokes the underside of his shaft.
"Hmm," I say in response, causing his eyes to roll back in his head and his hand to tangle in my hair.
He begins to hum in time with my mouth, and I feel him tense and wait for the explosion, but instead his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me off him.
"Wha-?"
"I want to be inside you when I ..." he trails off and blushes crimson.
"Come? Orgasm? Blow? Explode?"
He just shakes his head and pulls me onto his stomach. "You talk too much, you know that?"
"Blame it on the magic lips," I sigh as I lower myself, painstakingly slowly, onto him.
"God, Catherine," he groans. "I love you."
"Are you just saying that to make me go faster? 'Cause that's not gonna work on me."
He opens an eye and glares at me. "You know I mean it."
"You know I'm kidding."
He opens both eyes and focusses intently on me. Uh oh, I've seen that look before. I'm in for it now.
"I love you, Catherine, but you're driving me insane. In more ways than one."
With that, he flips us so that he's on top, hovering over me. Then he's inside me, and oh my fucking God, he feels amazing. I can't begin to describe it. It's just ... Gil. His mouth attacks mine as I wrap my legs high around his waist, our tongues moving in time with our rapidly accelerating frenzy.
"Faster ... oh God, Gil, harder," I whimper, my fingernails raking over his back to grasp at his ass, pulling him deeper within me, deeper into oblivion.
"So close ... Catherine," he pants, his face nestled in the hair above my neck. "Catherine, Catherine-Catherine-CatherineCatherineCatherine," he chants in my ear.
That's it. I can't not come when he starts to do that. I explode around him, my body tensing and shuddering in his arms as pleasure jolts through my being. I feel him thrust once more, deep inside me, before he erupts as well, his warmth spurring on a second orgasm for me. I have no idea how he does that. But I can't get enough of it.
He falls to my side, our breathing ragged yet in synch. Our hands entwine and I grin lazily at him.
"Wow," he mutters distractedly, his finger caressing my swollen lips.
"Yeah. Know what?"
"Hmm?"
"Bees are my favourite animals."
"Ah," he says, nodding sagely as he pulls me into his arms. "So can I get a bee farm for the back yard?"
"Not on your life."
End