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Oscillate Wildly - Chapter 4
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Rating: R/Mature
Pairing: Gil Grissom/Greg Sanders
Spoilers: Pirates of the Third Reich, Lady Heather's Box, Slaves of Las Vegas
Warnings: BDSM elements
Author's Note: Wow, so it's been one million years since I posted a chapter to this story. I'm dedicated to eventually finishing this, so fear not, and gift me with the favor of your patience.
“Awake soon...”
Gil awakened slowly, his mind drifting between memories of the night before and hazy dreams of Greg. He curled further into his pillow and let its cool, soft underbelly soothe him back into dreamless minutes of stolen sleep. He woke in small increments, allowing himself time to drift along, gentle swells of drowsiness lapping at his body.
Eventually, Gil summoned the willpower to open his eyes. Multiple shades of red ran together in his vision, a fever dream of garish colors that told him in no uncertain terms where he was. Sharp, bright memories of the previous night flooded into his conscious mind, leaving him both shocked and tantalized. Gil couldn't believe that he'd given into the impulse to come to The Dominion in the first place, couldn't believe he'd followed through with this mad scheme. Yet, he had – and he couldn't bring himself to regret what had happened. Of all the spontaneous (and perhaps ill-advised) decisions he'd made in his life, this one had so far resulted in the fewest disastrous consequences, and had even had a few unexpected fringe benefits.
Greg watched Grissom as he slept, had been watching him for some time now. He watched Grissom's chest rise and fall steadily, observed the almost serene look on Grissom's face. Grissom really was beautiful, in his own way. Silver-grey hair sweeping away from his face, his keen blue eyes closed and fringed with dark lashes. Greg was fascinated most with Grissom's mouth, by the way it could convey so many emotions, arouse so many desires, spill forth so many imperious edicts. He fully intended to make use of that mouth before his time with Grissom was over. He'd teach Grissom to beg for permission to come, show him firsthand how to make another man come using only those soft lips and that wet tongue.
Greg's reverie was broken by Grissom stretching, arching his back up from the bed, arms twining around the soft down pillow under his head. It was almost more than Greg could bear, seeing Grissom sleepy and sated, looking for all the world like a lazy kitten readying itself for another nap after a long day spent napping. Greg ruthlessly suppressed the urge to truss Grissom up and have him right at that moment. Instead, he approached the bed and caught Grissom's attention by calling softly to him.
“Good evening, Pet. I trust you slept well?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Gil sighed in pleasure and sat up, leaning back against the head of the bed. He noticed that Christoffer had changed into soft, midnight blue velvet pants and a pale blue peasant shirt with lace-up collar. Christoffer's mask was different, too, made of the same material as his pants. Gil's eyes roamed appreciatively over Christoffer's lean body, taking in his finely made form and strong, delicate hands. He wondered what was hidden under the mask, wanted to know why Christoffer wouldn't just show him the face underneath it. Gil supposed it was none of his business, really, but it didn't lessen his desire to know more about the man he was offering his obedience and submission.
Greg was pleased that Grissom seemed entranced by his appearance. He sat on the bed next to Grissom and asked, “Hungry, Pet?”
“A little, Sir.”
“Good, then the food I've ordered brought up won't go to waste.”
“Thank you, Sir. Would it be alright if I cleaned up a little?”
“Of course, Pet. Go ahead and take a shower, the food won't be ready for little while yet.”
Greg made shooing motions at Grissom and watched him shuffle towards the en suite bathroom clutching one of the red bedsheets around his waist. Greg found it endearing that Grissom still felt such misplaced modesty around him, but he fully planned to rid Grissom of it, and soon.
-*-
“Feel better, Pet?” Greg asked, watching Grissom lick the last few crumbs of his croissant from the tips of his fingers. They'd been lingering over the remains of the light supper that Svetlana had delivered to them. They were sitting comfortably next to one another on the loveseat where Greg had first interrogated Grissom about his reasons for coming to The Dominion.
Gil looked up at Christoffer and nodded an affirmation. “Yes, Sir, thank you.”
“You're welcome, Pet.” Greg leaned in and let his lips brush against Grissom's ear as he said, “Why don't you have a quick wash up, and come back to bed when you're done?”
Gil tried not to shudder as he felt Christoffer's lips move against the sensitive skin of his ear.
Grissom's, “Yes, Sir,” was breathless and quiet, but Greg heard him nonetheless.
-*-
Gil washed his face and hands slowly, peering at himself in the mirror above the sink. He'd had a difficult walk to the bathroom, trying in vain to mask the heavy weight of his erection with casually placed hands, camouflaging it as best he could with his normal gait. He was lucky that Christoffer had brought him a robe to wear, because he didn't think he could have made it off the couch otherwise. He was a little mortified to be this hard just from Christoffer's voice in his ear. He hadn't wanted to give himself away and risk further embarrassment. Gil grinned wryly at his own reflection. He almost felt young again, inexperienced and naïve, and felt the heady rush of unknown thrills skitter down his spine.
-*-
“The mindstorm / I feel, I feel...”
Greg pulled a few items from a drawer in the bedside table and laid them on the the mattress near the pillows. He pulled the curtains of the four poster bed closed, transforming it into a dark cocoon lit only by the warm glow of two small sconces built into the headboard, then climbed back out to wait for Grissom.
Greg's eyes tracked Grissom from the second he stepped out of the bathroom, taking in his body language, considering the best way to approach the forthcoming punishment. Greg decided on enticement as his weapon of choice, something soft and careful that would ease Grissom into the scene without frightening him or damaging the bond they'd forged over the last hours spent together.
Gil looked up just then to see Christoffer studying him intently, and he flushed with pleasure to see those dark, fathomless eyes focused solely on him. He rubbed his palms against the fabric of his robe, wanting to simultaneously quell and embrace the frisson of nervous excitement that coursed through him.
“Time to choose a safeword, Pet. Something easy to remember and easy to say,” Greg prompted him. “Just so you know – if you were mine, truly mine, and not here as a novitiate – safewords wouldn't be necessary. I'd know your limits, intimately, and you'd trust me implicitly to give you exactly what you need and no more. It would take time, of course, and much practice,” and Greg paused, letting his silence communicate exactly what sorts of practice he meant, “but eventually we would move past the need for safewords between us. If something was wrong, I'd either know it or expect you to let me know. Special rules for special occasions, but otherwise no safewords.”
Greg put his hands on Grissom's shoulders, his fingers tightening just enough to ensure he had Grissom's attention. “Always remember what I said about choosing wisely.”
These serious words made Gil shiver with fear, with excitement. He was skeptical of Christoffer's surety about the ability of two people to be so in sync that they wouldn't need safewords, yet the idea was interesting. The overwhelming majority of his research stressed the need for safewords in domination/submission scenes, but he could also see Christoffer's reasoning.
Gil mentally shrugged, then turned his mind to deliberation over his own safeword. He examinined and discarded any number of insect names and any names of irksome colleagues. “Red.” He shrugged. “Short, simple, basic.”
Smiling indulgently at Grissom, Greg nodded and said, “A popular safeword, to be sure – but how will I know you're not just commenting on the décor?” Grissom just shrugged again, giving that little smirk that Greg had become so familiar with over the years. “Your punishment awaits, Pet. Take off your robe and lie on the bed, on your stomach. We'll see if you're still smirking when I'm done with you.”
Gil was quick to comply, a jolt of desire taking root deep in his belly at the sound of in Christoffer's softly commanding voice.
-*-
“The stars out / The fear goes...”
Greg pulled the curtain shut behind him as he slid one velvet clad leg across Grissom's bare thighs, finally settling himself just above Grissom's naked ass. “Hands over your head, Pet, I think I'll need to restrain you for the time being. Wouldn't want you trying to hide any of your manly charms from me,” Greg said with a sly grin. If only he knew the real reason I'm tying him up, Greg thought, his smile widening in anticipation. And if I had a dollar for every time a newbie sub tried to shield his ass from my hands, wouldn't I just be the richest man on Earth?
Gil slid his hands up, reveling in the sensation of warm velvet sliding over his skin as Christoffer stretched over him to fasten his left wrist in a padded cuff. He wasn't really surprised at the sense of rightness he felt as he was pinned to the bed by the solid weight of Christoffer's body against his back. Gil was vaguely disappointed when Christoffer leaned back up after finishing with his other wrist.
Greg leaned over, hands sliding up Grissom's sides and coming to rest at his shoulders. “I know said I was going to punish you, but I thought we'd ease into things. What do you think, Pet? How about a nice massage to warm up?” Greg's hands wandered over Grissom's back, not waiting for agreement, smoothing over soft, pale skin. “Mmm, Pet, so nice,” Greg murmured, lips ghosting over the nape of Grissom's neck. “I could touch you all day, mapping out every inch of warm flesh, making it all mine. Would you like that?” And Greg was a little surprised at his own words, poetic and loverly, not really what he'd intended, maybe a little too close to the truth. He decided it might be better to take up his unfinished work with Grissom's body instead, keeping his traitorous mouth shut until he regained a bit of control over his tongue.
Lost in his own head, Gil didn't notice anything but the feel of Christoffer's hands on his skin, burning away doubt and fear, leaving only trust.
-*-
“I soar now / As far as I can carry you / As deep, as deep / No thief can take away from you / The way you have taken from me...”
Greg rubbed Grissom's back, massaging the tenseness away until Grissom was nearly limp with contentment beneath him. He soothed his fingers over bone and sinew, prodding and pushing at the stubbornly knotted muscles in Grissom's shoulders. When it was evident that Grissom was fully relaxed, Greg put the next phase of his plan into action. If Grissom was surprised at Greg moving to sit on his legs, he didn't show it. There was no awkward struggle to move up onto his elbows and watch what Greg was doing, no flailing of limbs in an attempt to knock Greg off him.
Greg's fingers teased past each vertebra, slipping downwards in a random fashion to avoid arousing suspicion. He traced lazy spirals over each rib, pausing every so often skim down Grissom's sides, until his hands came to rest on Grissom's ass. Greg decided it was fortunate for him that Grissom couldn't see him, because touching the one bit of Grissom's body that he'd most coveted was causing his hands to tremble just the tiniest amount. And wouldn't that just give the game away?
It was the unexpectedly sharp sting of a hard smack against his buttock that dragged Gil's mind back from that pleasantly boneless state of lassitude where he'd forgotten all mention of being punished. The heat spread as another blow rained down on the other cheek, pain blossoming bright against the backs of his closed eyes. He pulled at his bonds, knowing that struggle was futile yet attempting it anyway.
“Oh, Pet, and you were doing so well. Guess we'll just have to start over. By the way, I expect you to count each stroke, and I'm sure you'd rather not be further punished for losing count.” Greg didn't wait for Grissom to answer him, he simply took up where he'd left off.
Gil almost didn't recognize his own voice, rough and unsteady, as the numbers spilled over his lips.
A slow burn began to radiate outward, encompassing Gil in a warmth that seemed to engulf his entire body. He hadn't anticipated this arousal, his body flushed and trembling with hidden pleasure found on the outermost edges of pain. He rocked back against Christoffer, into each stroke of hard palm against soft flesh, then away as he pushed his half-hard cock into smooth sheets. Gil shut his eyes tight, lost in images playing against the blackness of imagination and memory – learning with newly unfurled wings how to fly.
“The light no longer terrifies
The grief gone to sleep
So beauty came with agony
But sweet, oh every love is sweet...”
-- Sarah Slean - “Awake Soon”
Previous Chapter // To be continued...
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