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Dirty Laundry	By : mingsmommy Category: CSI > General Views: 3736 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Dirty Laundry
- 1
A/N: Thanks to nightblight for the beta. She is so kind and supportive. Also thanks to my RL BFF Andrea for the idea.

Originally posted at GeekFiction for the Feb 2007 Smutathon
�Just where do you think you�re going?�
Grissom froze mid-stride, foot raised to step through from the spacious laundry room into the kitchen and the main living area of the house. He turned to face his lover and housemate where she was leaning against the backdoor frame, obviously entering the house from the patio. �To wash up and change clothes?� he asked hesitantly, taking a step back toward the door he�d just entered from the garage.
Her arms were crossed over her chest in her �this is non negotiable� posture, but her tone was easy, nearly playful as she asked, �You honestly think you�re going to tramp through the house with all of that on you?� She quirked an eyebrow at him, �Is this what happens when paint attacks?� Her eyes flicked over his body. �Clearly, the paint won.�
He had been shifting boxes on one of the garage shelves, looking for a small roll of wire mesh he wanted to use in the new spider�s habitat. As his hands had landed on the correct box, his elbow had jarred the small can of Hunter green paint that Sara had used to paint the trim in the office. He�d dropped the box and reflexively reached for the paint can, but instead of pushing it back onto the shelf, he had somehow managed to upend it. The lid had popped off, soaking his shirt and jeans, spattering his hands and dotting his face.
�Yes, the Hunter pouncing on its prey,� he deadpanned and turned back towards the door intent on a shower.
�Stop!�
He stopped.
She moved from the doorframe, pushing off with her shoulder. �You cannot walk through the house with that paint all over you.� Her voice had lost its playful quality and was threaded through with the urgency of a woman who had just had her carpets professionally cleaned the week before. �Look,� she pointed to the throw rug in front of the dryer. �You dripped some there just passing through.� She stood with her hands on her hips facing him down, stance defiant and ready for domestic battle.
His face scrunched in a disbelieving scowl. �What do you suggest I do, Sara? Live out the rest of my life in the laundry room?� He indicated his body with a sweep of both hands. �I need to get out of these clothes and get washed up.�
�Strip,� she moved around him and turned a knob and a dial on the washing machine and he heard the water begin to fill the basin as he stared at her.
�What?�
She reached for the detergent, as she continued in an amused tone, �You heard me, paint man. Strip.� She filled the cap with liquid and with a graceful turn of her wrist, poured the detergent into the water gushing into the washer basin.
�Here?� He looked around the room as if he had never seen it before.
She bent and tossed the rug into the machine. �Yes, here, Grissom.� The clean smell of what was supposed to be �Vanilla & Lavender� began pervading the atmosphere. She studied him as he made no move to begin disrobing, her head cocked to the side.
They had been sleeping together for over a year and a half, lived together for eight months. They had done things for and to each other involving hands and mouths and damned near every other body part, in bed and out, in almost every room of the house, twice outside and once in the front seat of the Denali. And yet, sometimes, he still surprised her with a certain prudishness.
She regarded him with pursed lips, slightly amused by his incredulous expression.
Finally, she rolled her eyes at him, �It�s OK, Gris.� Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, �I�ve seen you in your underwear before.�
He frowned at her and she snorted as she placed her hands at the hem of his shirt, pulling it half way up his torso. When his arms remained at his sides she made a slightly admonishing sound and tugged harder, �Lift.�
He raised his arms with obvious reluctance; she pulled the shirt over his head and dropped it into the washer with one hand while her other hand lightly skated down his chest to the button of his jeans. She met his eyes as her fingers pushed the button out of the hole and grasped the tab of the zipper, �Come on, Babe�� she pulled herself closer to him as she began to lower the zipper. �You don�t usually give me this much trouble getting you out of your clothes.� Her voice was a husky tease down his spine as her other hand stroked down his chest and caressed his stomach lightly.
His face had relaxed from its former scowl and as the rasp of the zipper bounced off the hard surfaces of the room other parts of him tensed and his libido engaged.
He was a biologist; he understood about nerve impulses and biological imperatives. Yet, he never failed to be amazed at the electric current of arousal that shot straight through him whenever she touched him in anyway more intimate than holding his hand; though even that could draw a reaction sometimes.
He could rub a hand across his stomach and it was nothing more than flesh connecting with flesh; but her palm against his skin caused a frisson of erotic intensity, shot images into his brain of her splayed out in front of him, brought sensory memory to the front of his brain recalling the heat and wetness of her, kicked his senses into hyper-drive to the point that even though she was fully clothed and the aroma of the detergent pervaded the air he could smell her. Not the smell of her deodorant, or shampoo, or shower gel. No, even though he could smell all of that, he could also smell the tang and the musk and the sweat that was her. Why, he wondered idly even as he began to harden did human beings feel the need to cover up all their natural smells?
And how did it happen, at his age, even after all the times they had made love, had sex and fucked, that she could turn him on so quickly with little or no effort? The slightest touch, a suggestive look, a well-placed innuendo, those jeans�all could cause him to go from aggravated to highly aroused, in less than sixty seconds.
Both of her hands were now on his hips as she tugged at his jeans, pushing them to the floor and urging him to step out of them, leaving him standing in only his boxers. She scooped them off the floor and dropped them in the washer with the rug and closed the lid, seemingly unaware her lover had become a lustful predator until she felt herself crowded against the washing machine with his growing erection pressing against her ass, both hands gripping her hips as he breathed into her ear. �I think I got paint on you.�
His husky intonation caressed her nerve endings causing a spark of desire to flare in her belly. She felt the thrill of being desired by him shudder through her. It never failed to erotically delight her to know how much he wanted her; it seemed to her that she never stopped wanting him.
One thick hand snaked under her fuchsia tank top and splayed across her stomach briefly then began to glide up her body. He pressed himself more firmly into her backside, rubbing against her as his hand cupped a smooth breast.
Her breath hitched. �Do you think so?� A sultry question, that was really not a question at all.
�Mmmhmm,� he pressed a wet kiss against the side of her neck. His other hand slid down, popped the button on her jeans and slid into the opening, pushing the zipper down as it went. He cupped a hand over her through her panties, exerting just the slightest pressure, causing her to shiver slightly against him. �These,� his right hand left her breast and skimmed into her jeans lightly caressing the skin at her hip, �are my favorite jeans. I don�t want them to be ruined.� His left hand continued to stroke over her as his right hand moved into her panties to squeeze her ass. �I think we need to get you out of them.�
The feel of his large, warm hand on her flesh caused her to let out a low moan of acquiescence. It never failed to effect her�the touch of his hand, the press of his fingers, the feel of his breath, the sound of his husky words�all of it seducing her, making her want him, making her wet.
He was now using both hands to work her jeans and panties down her hips as he kissed, licked and nipped along her neck and shoulders. He arched away from her, pushed her jeans past her derriere and down her thighs and then pressed back into her, thoroughly rubbing his boxer clad erection against her bare ass.
When he managed to get the jeans down to her knees, he raised his foot to push them down to pool at her feet and his hands returned to more interesting activities. His left hand went under her tank to stroke her breast and his right hand slipped into her moist cleft, hissing air through his teeth as his touch set off another, deeper moan from Sara.
His eyes half closed in satisfaction at the sound. He had never been with a more responsive woman and her arousal always ratcheted his up a notch. He used gentle pressure from his legs to urge her to step out of her jeans and widen her stance as she braced herself against the washing machine.
Pressing wet, passionate kisses to her shoulders and the back of her neck he continued to stroke back and forth over her folds, lightly skating over her clit with each pass. Each panting breath she gave increased his arousal and when she whimpered, �Gris! Please!� he thought it entirely possible that he could come right there against her ass, touching her, listening to her passionate pleading. It was like every fantasy he ever had come true, right here under his hand.
He took a steadying breath and pushed a finger into her. He clenched his teeth against his the feeling of her slick heat closing over his digit as he began coaxing her towards heightened arousal.

�Ahh�� Her cry was a combination of relief and encouragement. When his thumb brushed firmly, deliberately against her clit she arched back against him with a sound that was a near sob. She had been wet before, but she was sopping now and he growled in her ear as he added a second finger and began plunging in and out of her repeatedly. With each thrust of his fingers into her, he felt himself throb and harden even more. Seeing her, feeling her, hearing her�each was an aphrodisiac.
�Uhhhh�Gris�it�ah�god, Babe�feels so good,� her voice was a tension filled stroke against him, causing his cock to throb.
�Gonna make you come,� he gritted, pulling her back into him, stroking his thumb across her sensitive nub. �Want you to come hard for me, Sara.� His fingers were stroking into her in an ever increasing rhythm, demanding her passionate response and he was unable to stop himself from thrusting against her.
The sound of his passionately harsh request and the feel of him thrusting against her ass was her undoing. She ground her body down on his hand and felt her vaginal muscles begin to contract. Suddenly she was hurtling over the edge, coming and coming undone as her release spread through her in a heated liquid rush.
Supporting herself against the washer, she gasped, the harsh sounds of her breath competing with the noise the appliance was making as it agitated the laundry. She was aware that her lover had released her and was quickly stepping out of his boxers. She felt him lift her tank and she raised her arms so he could pull it over her head. The shirt landed on the floor with her jeans and he was pressed against her again, covering her shoulder blades with kisses and broad brushes of his tongue, his hands were busy cupping and fondling her breasts.
When her breathing was nearly normal he placed his hands over hers and placed them securely on the washing machine. Then he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her back so she was slightly bent and her ass was turned pertly up towards him.
He paused a moment with his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he savored the perfect sight of her lush backside tilted invitingly towards him. Again, he briefly thought of coming right there, jacking off and watching his cum shoot over the shapely globes of her ass. The thought was titillating and maybe someday he would do that, but right now he wanted to be surrounded by her hot tightness, wanted to feel her inner muscle grip and milk him, wanting to pound into her, listen to her gasp and cry out, make her come again.
He grasped her hip with one hand and lined himself up with the other and drove into her.
Matching moans floated up and into the air around them. He pulled almost out and then slowly slid all the way back into her, both of his hands now gripping her hips.
His fingertips were biting into her skin, she would have fingerprint bruises tomorrow she was sure, but she welcomed the pain. She was sure it was the only thing that was keeping her from passing out from the sheer pleasure of his thick cock gliding into and out of her with deliciously slow strokes. All the way in and almost all the way out, over and over and over. �Oh, ah, feels so good,� she gasped out. �Love the way you feel inside of me. Love the way you fuck me.�
Her words drove him further into the erotic haze engulfing his brain. �God, Sara�want you�need you�love you,� his voice was shaky and rough, each phrase mated to a deep thrust into her.
He paused a moment, clutching her snuggly against him, wanting to prolong the feeling of being in her, pressing kisses against the curve of her back. As deep as he was in her, he wanted to be deeper, wanted to be closer. Lifting her slightly, he splayed his hand across her stomach, urging her to raise her torso and moved to press her against the washer with a slight grunt. She was now fully impaled on him and the complete contact made them both groan with the intensity of the feeling.
Sara savored the myriad of sensation washing over her, each vying for her attention. His bulky cock filled her, his warm weight pressed into her from behind and pressed her into the cool metal of the washing machine. She couldn�t see him, but she could feel him�his breath against her shoulders, his lips on her neck, his chest against her back. She shuddered with the intense feeling of being surrounded by and filled with Grissom.
Within the washer, the rug shifted to the same side of the basin as Grissom�s jeans as the cycle moved to spin and the machine began to rock slightly. Seizing the moment, Grissom pressed Sara completely against the appliance and began thrusting into her again in earnest.
Sara was gasping at the dual stimulations; the vibration of the machine humming against her clit and Grissom plunging into her from behind. The twin sensations were overwhelming; the electric jolts of the machines vibrations were complimented by the thick, intense thrusts from Grissom. With every drive into her he pushed her back into the moving metal, causing a red hot flash to shoot through her with every press. As his pace began to increase she felt herself reach the edge and fall. Only it wasn�t falling at all, it was like flying and bursting into delicious flame all at once. Wave after wave of pleasure uncoiled and rolled through her, one orgasm crashing into another and she cried out repeatedly.
He felt her wetness increase and her muscles spasm around him as he listened to her gasp and cry out at the power of the feeling. He had never felt her come around him so intensely. She grasped him tightly within her and it was more than he could stand. Plunging wildly, he arched into her hard, driving himself up into her, shooting himself into her, growling his orgasm against her neck.
Sara slumped against the washer, Grissom collapsed against Sara and soon the wash cycle spun to a stop leaving only the sounds of their harsh breathing filled the room. After a few minutes, she became aware of him pressing kisses onto her shoulders again.
�Mmmm,� she sighed, smiling. �That was good.�
�Mmhm,� he hummed his agreement. �You owe me a nap now, though.�
�Oh?� He could hear the lazy thread of amusement in her voice. �How do you figure that?�
He planted a wet kiss where her neck joined her shoulder and feigned a hurt tone. �I feel so used.�
She snorted. �Used?�
�Yes, you didn�t even kiss me.�
She laughed outright. �Oh, poor baby.� She yawned. �Tell you what�let�s put you in the shower and get the rest of this paint off of you and then we�ll nap.�
He pulled himself off of her with another kiss and a groan. �Shower with me?�
It still surprised her how vulnerable he could be, how much he wanted to be with her. She rose on wobbly legs and answered affectionately. �Yes, Babe, I�ll shower with you.�
He hugged her close. �And kiss me?�
She stepped into his embrace and put her arms around his neck, �I will kiss you as much as you like.� She started by placing a kiss in the cleft of his chin.
�What if I want you to kiss me everyday for the rest of my life?�
She smiled lovingly at him, placing a gentle kiss against his mouth. �Then I will.�
And she did.
- 1
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Dirty Laundry