Author: Sazmuffin
Title: Periodic Table of the Elements
Ship: Catherine/Sara
Rating: T
Summary: Sara can't seem to concentrate.
She's right in front of you, dumbass. How hard is it to just walk up to her, and ask her out to breakfast after our shifts are over? You've thought about it, you know you have. You've even practiced what to say in front of the mirror. You've perfected how you would stand, how you would look, where you would ask, what you would do with your hands. Why are you so afraid?
My lips open and almost form the words when she smiles, and I feel like my knees have given out and I can't think straight. I divert my eyes from her face, trying to hide the spreading blush currently devouring my face and neck. It feels like my eyes roll back into my head when her body and my eyes meet, and I can't seem to move or breathe or even function.
My attempt at asking her out comes out as a long string of prefixes and suffixes, syllables and pauses. She doesn't understand a word that just came out of my mouth and is looking at me funny, asking me if I'm all right. Her hand gently grasps my arm and I feel like I might explode. Leading me over to the couch, we sit down and I still avoid her gaze. We've never been the best of friends, but that doesn't mean we're the worst of enemies.
She never ceases to amaze me. She almost always remains neutral about her cases, save for the one involving Eddie's death. But, that's understandable. After all, he was her ex-husband and Lindsey is her daughter, how can anyone not try to get involved and then become emotional when they can't be included? She has morals and she knows when and when not to do something. She's willing to help if you're in a rut and don't know which direction to turn.
Besides the fact that not only is she brilliant, she is a heavenly body; beautiful, mysterious, a phenomenon in its own right. I've caught myself peering down her shirt or staring at her ass as she's bending over, quickly changing the course of my gaze as she catches on to my stealthy glances. I would've loved to see her when she was an exotic dancer, capturing men in her web of desire and passion.
Catherine moves her hand up to my shoulder and whispers into my ear, repeating her question. Am I all right? No, of course not. The object of my desire, the apple of my eye, the sheer bane of my existence is sitting mere inches away from me and I can't seem to activate my vocal cords. Anxiously, I nod my head and she smiles again, thinning my composure. Pure lust tells me to ravage her right there, in her office, but my head is swiveling and my heart is aching and I don't know what to do. Oh, why does she put me through this?
She looks at me as if she knows what's going through my head, my palms damp with sweat and a headache pounding in my ears. Before I know what's going on, her other hand is on my knee and she aks me what's wrong. The hand works its way up to my thigh, rubbing and caressing and I can barely answer. Her other hand, located on my shoulder, moves to my neck and starts massaging the taut, aching muscles that hold my head up straight. An involuntary moan stumbles from my lips, followed by a squeak and my lips shut tightly. I can't let her know I'm enjoying this. She can't know I'm a lesbian. No. She can't.
The hands take on minds of their own and run down my sides, testing my curves for flaws that I know she'll find. I close my eyes and try to concentrate on anything other than the pleasure and the hands that seem to have a mind of their own. Oh, um, the Periodic Table of the Elements. That's right, go with that, Sara. Hydrogen, Lithium, Sodium, Potass-Yes, Catherine, yes, right there. No, no. Potassium, Rubidium, Cesium, Francium. Beryllium, Magnesium, Calcium, Stron-Catherine, stop. Please stop. You're torturing me.
She whispers naughty things into my ear as I try to concentrate on the Alkali earth metals. She's murdering me, her motive as clear as day and her weapons burning my skin. I can't concentrate. I can't think. I can't move. The pleasure is too much. I know she feels the heat and dampness in me and that only makes her work harder. She wants me to come, she wants me to give in and admit that I'm attracted to her. But I can't do that.
There is literally something stopping me from experiencing some of the most intense pleasure a person could possibly bear. A wall, a massive, titan-sized wall that simply will not crumble. Another moan escapes from me as her hand passes up through the valley between my breasts. Her mouth comes into contact with my neck and my jaw and my earlobe, the damp skin now growing goose bumps.
It takes every ounce of power I have left in my body to stand up and walk to the other side of the room, biting my thumbnail. Catherine stood and joined me, the white arms circling her mid-section. She asks why I reject her. I don't reply. Would you like to go to breakfast, she asks me. Before I can answer, she turns me around and kisses me, preventing any chance of my reply. When she finishes, I nod.
