Falling for the Wrong One

Rating: Mature (finally)

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of the characters.

Summary: They were kinda, sorta friends... at least... she hoped.

Pairing: Gil Grissom/Catherine Willows

A/N: Chapter eight is here, and it's turning the story to a 'Mature' rating! Sorry for any grammar mistakes! Hope every loves it!

Her birthday sneaks up on him. March 26th. A Thursday. She was now 28 years old. They had been working tirelessly, different schedules, but by some divine miracle, they both had her birthday night off. Their plans had been made in advance; she'd sleep the majority of the day, wake up to get herself ready, and he'd pick her up for a night out on the town, per her request. He wasn't particularly keen on going downtown, or into public in general, but she was worth it; especially if it made her happy.

She wakes late in the afternoon, brews a pot of coffee, and hops into the shower. She had long picked out her outfit, a tight-fitting black dress with bell sleeves and a v-neck. It was cute, simple, and perfect for their little celebration. She curls her hair slightly, puts on her makeup, checks her watch, and knows Gil will be arriving shortly.

Hearing a knock at the door, she checks her reflection in the mirror hanging near her bed one last time, before moving to answer it. She can hear the muffled music next door, can feel the coldness of the night seeping through the crack of the door, and something weary passes over her. But she opens the door. And regrets it instantly.

Her ex-boyfriend, Eddie Willows, stands before her.

With his hands in his pockets, and with a beaten puppy look. Seeing him nearly takes the breath from her lungs, but for all the wrong reasons. She clutches the handle of the door, refusing to open it any further. She catches the way his eyes travel down her body, taking in her outfit, and can only guess what's going through his mind.

"Well you look beautiful," he speaks first, his voice sending a wave of nausea straight to the pit of her stomach. Her crime lab issued gun was tucked away in her night stand, her corded phone hanging up on the kitchen wall. All she could do was stand her ground and hope that Gil was close to arriving. She doesn't know what to say to him, not having seen him in months, and their last exchange not being particularly friendly. "Are you going to invite me in," he asks with a smug look, causing her to grimace.

At a loss for words, unable to come up with some lame excuse, she decides to just tell him the truth.

"I was just about to leave," she says, shuffling uncomfortably in her spot. His eyebrows raise in interest.

"Going out?" She feels as if she's being interrogated, and she only prays that he won't follow her and Gil. But something else passes over her, and she stands a little taller. It was none of his god damned business what she did, or where she went; she was done with all of that.

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. She doesn't want to tell him where they're going, just wants him to leave. And that's when she hears him, clearing his throat behind Eddie. Her eyes widen a little in relief, and she pulls the door back to reveal Gil. Her ex-boyfriend turns at the sound, his wild blue eyes scanning Grissom's face.

She suddenly has trouble swallowing the lump stuck in her throat. She hadn't told Gil about her ex-boyfriend, and this wasn't the way she had wanted to go about it. The two men are roughly the same height, but Eddie has a few pounds on him.

"Can we help you," Eddie's voice carries over the muffled music coming from next door. Gil doesn't flinch, doesn't bat an eye at Eddie's rude remark, and only points to Catherine.

"I'm here for her," he says calmly, causing Eddie's head to turn back to her. She doesn't take her eyes off of Gil, refusing to give Eddie anymore of her attention.

"What the hell, Cath?!"

"Go home, Eddie." She doesn't trust herself with any more words, afraid of Gil seeing just how upset Eddie's presence had made her… on her birthday, of all days. Picking up her overnight bag from the floor, she pushes past Eddie and locks up her apartment, before stepping ahead of Gil… putting distance between herself and Eddie. She doesn't wait for Gil, doesn't give a glance back, before advancing down the staircase towards Gil's car.

Taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, Gil watches as Eddie brings one to his lips, cups his hand around it, and lights it. Blowing smoke up into the night air, he gives Gil another look-over.

"I guess she's moved on, huh," he says coldly, pushing his back up against the concrete wall. And it finally clicks in Gil's head; Eddie was more… what he had envisioned Catherine going after. He had a strong jaw, dark hair, bright blue eyes, gave off the 'bad boy' vibe that girls these days were finding hard to ignore. He looked like he was capable of bad things. Gil didn't like him one bit.

He knows it's not his place, knows he shouldn't get in the middle of it, but Catherine's safety was his priority… and he didn't care who's toes he stepped on in the process.

"Don't come back here," is all Gil says, his eyes never moving from Eddie's face, studying every last detail. The other man nods his head once, in disappointment, and from what… Gil doesn't know.

"Yeah," he says softly, taking another drag from the cigarette.

–

She's quiet for the remainder of the night, which he knows is very unlike her. She sips at her wine, picks at her food, wants to leave for his place earlier than he'd expect. He doesn't pry, doesn't ask about what happened at her apartment, and silently drives them back to his townhouse. This isn't how she had wanted to spend her birthday, and he gets that much. As he unlocks his door, he wonders if he should continue with what he had planned for her. She moves through his living room, dropping her overnight bag in his bedroom, and stops dead in her tracks when she returns.

A small white cake, decorated with an assortment of strawberries, blueberries, and blackberries sits on his kitchen island. There's a single red candle in the middle, it's flame casting a shadow throughout his kitchen. He looks up from the cake slowly, sees her standing there.

"Happy birthday," he says softly, offering a small smile.

A wave of emotions hits her, from memories of how awful her life and past relationship with Eddie had been, to the tough months that followed… her finding a new apartment, working extra shifts to make a decent living, starting school, a second job at the crime lab… meeting Gil. She knows in that instant, that she never wants to go back to that life, that she wants this, her and Gil… for as long as she can have it.

She's thankful that in the dark kitchen, he can't see the redness in her eyes, the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. His tiled kitchen is cold against her bare feet, and she realizes they're carrying her towards him. She can see him lick his lips nervously, his mouth opening slightly to speak, but her hands come up to frame his face, her palms hot against his cheeks. She pulls him down, presses her lips to his. He welcomes the assault eagerly, kisses her back with matched passion. He tastes like the scotch he had ordered at her favorite restaurant, her own tongue pushing past his own. She's going so fast, that he has to push her gently against the kitchen island; his hands firmly planted on her hips, fingers digging into the flesh above her hip bones.

The blame lies within the two of them, waiting to finally do this.

He can feel himself responding to their kiss and her chest is heaving, switching her weight from one leg to the other… and he smirks when he realizes why. Months of pent up sexual tension is fueling this kiss, and when she gently bites down on his bottom lip, he loses all control.

She's light as a feather, and he had never really considered himself especially strong, but he's hoisting her up onto the marble counter top with ease. She quickly leans off to the side to blow out her birthday candle, red wax dripping onto the white frosting, and wastes no time snaking her hand to the back of his neck, guiding his lips to the crease of her neck. The sensation of his hot tongue against her skin makes her head fall back in blinding pleasure, a soft moan escaping her lips. If he spends any more time on this particular spot, she'll have a hickey in the morning, and he wonders if it isn't all that bad of an idea.

The hem of her dress has ridden up her thighs, the material bunched and stretched right before the place he wants to be the most. Her hands are gripping his biceps, fingers running over toned muscles. She leaves a trail of fire wherever she touches him, and his hands join together at the small of her back, pushing her closer to him. She's nearly hanging off the edge of the counter, but he steps between her spread thighs, one of his hands leaving her back to claim the side of her face. His thumb presses against her cheek bone, his fingers almost able to grip the back of her head.

It's the first time he's ever been this possessive, and it takes the air straight from her lungs. He pulls her back for another kiss, his free hand trailing up her exposed thigh, over the junction of her hip, feels the lace thong against his skin, and palms her waist.

They both moan into each other's mouths.

She moves for his shirt, pulling it free from where it was tucked in his trousers. Her own hands find the cut of muscle trailing down his abdomen, and she squeezes. He reaches down, hooking his hands under each of her thighs, pulls them high until they're wrapped around his waist. He breaks their kiss only for a second to look down between them, earning a glimpse of her near translucent thong, and his eyes close to concentrate.

"Catherine," he says, his voice dark and low. Her lips are swollen, her face flushed, and she looks like a goddess; he wants to treat her as such.

She hops off from the counter, grabs his hand, laces their fingers, and pulls him down the hallway to his bedroom. His heart is racing a million times a minute, it seems. And he can't believe his is all happening.

He stumbles towards the bed, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the mattress, but remains standing. Grabbing at his shirt, she helps him pull it over his head, tosses it to the ground. Her eyes scan over his chest, his slightly defined pecs, a not so flat abdomen… and she licks her lips. She's never, in her life, gone for someone like Gil… so reserved, so quiet, but there's something about him that makes her so grateful she's taken the chance on him.

Her fingers find his belt buckle, and start to slide the leather from around his waist. And when he feels the button give-way on his pants, he inhales deeply. He stands before her now, in only his boxer briefs, straining against his lower belly and the material of his underwear. She stills when she sees him for the first time, grins.

Before she can shed the remainder of his clothing, though, she feels his fingers at her back, grasping the zipper of her dress and tugging. She helps him, shrugging the dress off and letting it pool at her feet. She stands before him in a black strapless bra, a black thong, and he feels faint. The room is spinning, and it doesn't help when she bends at the waist, slipping her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, tugging until they're off.

Her mouth falls open at his size, taking in his girth and length, and slowly falls to her knees. She can feel the fibers of the carpet dig into her skin as her hands glide over his knees, up his thighs. He's gripping the edge of the mattress, trying to keep himself from tangling his hands in her hair. Words are stuck in his throat, he can't find a way to make her stop, wanting to give her pleasure first.

Slowly, her fingers wrap around his hardened member one by one, until she's stroking gently, up and down. He's burning in her hand, his skin on fire and stretched so tight, she can feel him pulsing against her palm. She looks up through hooded lids, her tongue resting on her bottom lip, as she studies for any signs of disapproval. When she gets none, she lowers her mouth, her tongue coming out to flick at the head of his cock. He lets out a shaky breath, one hand finally tangling itself in her hair, as he gently coaxes her onto his erection. Her lips wrap around him first, and his heart feels like it's about to give up.

"Catherine," he says again, trying to get her attention, but she's dead set on this. She's been wanting to do this for too long, and dammit, they were going to go through with it. No interruptions. Her tongue is flat against him, slides down his length, sweeps against him when she bottoms out and feels him at the back of her throat, and slowly rises. "Jesus," he stutters, holding himself back, trying not to buck up into her mouth.

She licks, sucks, hollows her mouth, takes him in deeper than she's ever been able to do, and he's not quite sure how long he'll last if she keeps this up. She's proud of the effect she has on him, vowing to herself that she'll always want to be the one to make him feel this way. Finally, at one of his tugs against her arms, she lifts from her knees. Her lips are once again swollen, wet with saliva.

Looking down at him, she grins when she sees what kind of state he's in, and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. Years of dancing naked on a stage had taught her not to be self-conscious or embarrassed about her body, but to instead embrace her sexuality. And it was clear he wasn't used to his intimate partners behaving this way. His mouth is wide open, in awe of her beauty, and when she reaches for her thong, he lunges at her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he spins them and pins her to the mattress. She spreads her legs once more, but before he rests between them, hooks his thumbs under the lace and pulls it off. Her thong flies somewhere with the rest of their abandoned clothes.

Laying before him naked, he grabs a hold of one of her legs, pulls her down the mattress, closer to him. She grins, aching to be touched. Arching against the bed, he takes the hint, and lowers his lips to the inside of her knee. He kisses his way down her thigh, paying the same attention to the other leg, and hovers above her most sensitive area. She doesn't realize it, but after a few seconds of holding her breath in anticipation, she finds herself locking her fingers into his curly hair, guiding him right where she wants him.

But he fights her off, crawls back up her body, and presses a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her grip relaxes a bit on his hair, and although he doesn't say the words, she can see in his eyes just how much she means to him… how much he loves her. She opens her mouth, to say the words aloud, but she's stopped short when his tongue circles one of her nipples. He cups the other one in his hand, gently squeezing as he scrapes his teeth against her flesh. She can feel her wetness trickle down the underside of her ass, onto his bed sheets, and she grabs at his sides.

"God," is her breathless reply, her voice barely above a whisper. She can feel her skin pimple with anticipation of what's to come, and a shiver passes over her. His body, covering hers, provides enough heat to melt away her shivers, and his lips are suddenly trailing down her chest, down her torso, over her belly, and stop.

His hands softly push her legs open, exposing her completely. He stares down in awe, slowly descends, and tortures her one last time. She can feel his breath against her heated skin, anticipates his touch, and just before she explodes with frustration, his tongue comes out to lick her- from the bottom, up her slit, circles around her clit. She nearly comes off the bed.

"Oh my God," she says, again. And he grins. He can't believe this is happening, for one, and he could die a happy man now.

Pushing her down into the mattress, his hands are firm against her hips now, to keep her still. She lets out a large, shaky breath as his tongue slowly flicks her sensitive bundle of nerves, over and over again, slowly increasing speed. Her thighs tense around his head, and he feels her almost go rigid. Suddenly, he feels a small tug of his hair, feels her fingers locking into his curls, and looks up at her.

"Come up here," she says, breathlessly.

Climbing up her body, he settles lightly on top of her, afraid of hurting her. But she's reaching for him, pulling him down for another heated kiss. And when she reaches down for him, he stills against her. He doesn't have any protection, not planning for any of this to happen. And the last thing he wants to do is pressure her into something she doesn't want to do. So when their kiss ends, she tilts her head in confusion at his hesitation.

"What's wrong?"

He pauses, tries to get his heart to slow down, has to clear his throat.

"I uh.. I don't have any..."

She realizes what he's trying to convey, and relaxes back into the mattress, a small smile on her lips. Anyone else would have tried to convince her that protection wasn't needed, would make some lame excuse as to why he couldn't wear a condom… It had always been a deal breaker for her, except with Eddie, but that had been a mistake.

"It's fine," she promises, watching over his face to read the emotion playing out on his face. Relief, then concern. She laughs. "I have an IUD."

He doesn't really know what she's talking about, and doesn't ask, because before he can even comprehend what she's saying, she's pulling him back down for another kiss. Taking himself in one hand, he positions himself at her entrance, unable to hold back any longer. He coats the tip of his erection with her wetness, and she moans into their kiss upon feeling him. He's almost certain he's never been this hard in his life, and if he waits any longer, he feels as if his head will explode.

Slowly, but steadily, he pushes into her, and grabs at one of her legs to hike it over his hip, deepening the angle. Their kiss breaks off, her mouth parted in pure bliss, and she presses her face into the side of his neck. With her lips against his skin, she can feel his bounding pulse, and when he stills against her, there's a satisfying ache; on the verge of painful, actually, but that quickly fades as she stretches to accommodate him, and suddenly she's ready for him to move.

They work up a sweat, even in the coldness of his bedroom, and she's suddenly pushing him onto his back, frowning at their loss of contact. Quickly, she straddles his lap, and slowly sinks onto him, savoring the way he feels inside of her. It's a whole new sensation, with her on top, and he lets his head roll to the side at the feeling, his hands clutching at her hips.

"You're gonna kill me," he says jokingly, his voice deeper than she's ever heard before. She grins, beginning to move at a torturous pace.

"I promise I'll be gentle," she says, pressing a kiss to his cheek. She slides the length of him, all the way until he's nearly falling out of her, but then descends and they both shudder. She's not quite sure where he starts and she ends, and it feels so good, that she never wants to stop. With every descent, she pauses, grinds against him, and she can feel something slowly uncoil deep within her.

Looking up at her, her face twisted in concentration and pleasure, he wants to tell her just how beautiful she is. He doesn't want to ruin the moment with words, and he feels himself nearing an orgasm. He's surprised when she gently grabs his hand, tugging it towards where they're joined, and gets the hint. He uses his thumb to find her swollen clit.

"Don't stop." Her words are low and rough in his ear, and he's starting to see stars.

"Catherine," he pleas, and her name on his lips is enough to send her over the edge. She slows her movements, and he lifts her up for one last thrust. Her eyes widen, she goes stiff against him, and when she feels him pulsing inside of her, she leans down and captures his lips in a kiss.

A/N: Thereeeeee it is!