Title: Producing Results
Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Right?
Characters: Giles/Gil Grissom
Disclaimer: They ain't mine. Buffy and the gang belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Who owns CSI? Not me, either.
Giles stared at the plastic cup in disgust. “A sperm sample?” he said, disgust clear in his voice.
Gil sighed. “Rupert, I assure you that this is just a routine procedure that has to be followed.” He glanced at the embarrassed looking Nick and smiled. “Believe me, if I wasn’t so… intimately… involved in this case, I’d be asking you right now.”
Giles pushed his glasses up his nose, and sighed in defeat. “Very well, gentlemen,” he said, glancing around. “I trust the appropriate… materials... will be supplied?”
Gil smiled. “Oh, I think I might be able to help out,” he said mildly.
Nick’s cheeks flamed, and he made gesturing motions towards the door. “I have to… was that… I think I hear Catherine calling,” he stuttered and headed out fast, making very sure to close the office door behind him.
Grissom stared after him and shook his head sadly. “If I hadn’t been cleared already…” he mused, “Gonna have to have words with him after this.”
“To be fair,” remarked Giles gently, “It’s not every day he finds his superior in such an interesting position.”
“I rather enjoyed the ropes, Rupert,” smiled Grissom, turning back to Giles, “But this isn’t helping us clear you.”
Giles swallowed hard, as Grissom seemed to be suddenly pressing against him, their interlocked gazes conveying the heat between them. “We still have that hotel room booked for two more days,” Grissom murmured, running one hand down Giles’s chest, “And I’ll be damned if we waste any more time than we have to.”
Giles drew in a deep intake of breath, as Grissom’s hands reached the buttons on Giles’s trousers and started working at them. “Perhaps…” he offered weakly, “perhaps you could lend me a hand?”
“Oh?” queried Grissom with a smirk forming on his face, as his talented hands coaxed Giles’s cock out of his trousers, “I was hoping for more than a hand….” And with that he sank to his knees.
Giles moaned loudly, and his hands clutched desperately at the desk behind him, trying to stay vertical. Grissom’s fluttering kisses along his cock, along with the increasingly rapid hand motions were driving him crazy. “Gil….” he moaned.
Grissom’s tongue flicked out and teased the tip of Giles’s now throbbing manhood. God, he loved the look on Rupert’s face at moments like this. The cool, collected, hard as nails Watcher desperate, writhing under his motions, his movements…. Even the way his fingers were gripping onto the table.
“Better hurry,” he said mildly, licking his lips and savouring Giles’s taste, “I very much doubt we’ll be left alone much longer.” Opening his mouth widely, Grissom leant forward and swallowed as much of Giles’s warm, twitching, delicious cock as possible.
Giles’s knees buckled at the sensations flooding through him, and he held onto the desk even tighter, as Grissom’s head started bobbing up and down on him. Gil’s hand pumped up and down in its own rhythm on his out strokes, sending a whole different set of feelings coursing along his body.
Giles managed to get one hand on Gil’s head, running it through his hair. Moaning again, he locked eyes with Grissom as he pistoned up and down along Giles’s hard, erect length, using his tongue to lash it as he went. Oh god, this was even better than that time with Ethan. The knowledge that anyone, literally anyone could just walk in at any moment…
And then he felt Grissom’s spare hand crawling up his leg, towards his ass.
Was he…? Oh god, he was….
As Grissom’s finger entered Giles’s rear with one deliberate unerring motion, Giles exploded into Gil’s mouth. Gil’s mouth clamped down, desperate to not let any droplets escape. One blast, another, and a third far weaker one.
Giles sagged against the desk, lost for both words and breath. Grissom stood up slowly, reached for the plastic cup, and slowly, deliberately opened his mouth and let the gooey strings of Giles’s sperm slip into the cup. “Normally,” he said mildly, “I’m more of a swallow type of guy.”
“Well,” panted Giles, somehow finding the strength to try and pull his trousers back up, “There’s always tonight for that.”
And that was the point at which Buffy fainted.
Xander’s jaw had almost locked wide-open he was gaping so much, Faith was smirking broadly, and Dawn was blushing brightly.
“Ah,” said Giles, and considered things carefully. “Delighted as I am that you have so quickly swung to the rescue,” he began, “I think a tad later might have perhaps been advisable. And yes Dawn, this is precisely what it looks like….”
Ew. I wrote more slash.