 | ShatterStorm Productions
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| ShatterStorm Productions
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Disclaimer: "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," the characters, and situations depicted are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer Television, Alliance Atlantis, and CBS Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. This site is in no way affiliated with "CSI: Crime Scene Investigators," CBS, or any representatives of the actors.
“Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” the characters and situations depicted are the property of Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. This story is in no way affiliated with "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit,” Wolf Films, Universal Network Television, NBC, or any representatives of the actors.
Author’s Notes: It’s a ficlet. Just shy over 700 words. Still, I hope you like it.
You had to smile when you opened your eyes and, through the early morning dimness and remains of sleep, you saw her at the other end of the room, curiously peaking through the window. The blinds were shut and she had her index finger jammed between the ribs, forcing them apart to get a view outside. She had your shirt on, the one she so impatiently fumbled with to unbutton the previous night, and you noticed that it was too big for her, too wide for her shoulders. You liked the idea of her being the petite one, seeing how much strength and attitude she exuded.
“I promise I won’t try anything funny,” you said after she raised her eyebrow at you the first time you invited her to dinner, to your place instead of the restaurant, “I’m pretty sure you can kick my ass.” She then gave you that tilt of the head and an almost shy smile, making you want to melt right on the spot.
One of your favorite things about her was the way her hair fell around her face. When she leaves it undone, falling over her shoulders and down her back, it’s always so neatly tucked behind her ears, to keep it out of the way. You couldn’t wait to run your fingers through it, to mess it up a little, to pull it out of the way of your kisses against her neck and making her gasp. It was messed up still, what from your fingers what from the pillow she rested her head on while she slept.
Her legs were bare: creamy, smooth thighs in full sight. When she shifted her weight from one foot to another you could see the muscles contract and tighten and the memory of how it felt to run your hands over those thighs made you release a long exhale and narrow your eyes. She made you feel like a horny schoolgirl, it was ridiculous. But it was also that much divine.
“New York is so beautiful in the fall,” she spoke in a slightly hoarse tone, probably because those were the first words she said out loud since she’s been awake. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah,” you spoke back, tucking yourself under the blanket where it was warm, “You don’t get that sort of feel in Vegas, do ya?”
She shook her head slowly while a small smile curved her lips. Her long tresses danced around her face, just the way you loved them to, brushing her cheeks, touching them gently, teasingly, just like you longed to do, again.
“I’m glad I came,” she admitted, turning towards you and searching for your features in the dark. Even across the distance you could see how incredibly blue her eyes are.
“So am I,” you replied.
The blinds made a little rattling noise when she retrieved her finger and closed the viewing hole shut. She moved away from the window and stepped back towards the bed. The old floorboards creaked slightly under her feet and with every step she took and came closer, your heart accelerated its beating. Two of her fingers tugged on the only button that kept the shirt she wore from falling off her and when she walked all the way to the foot of the bed, the button gave in and granted you the view of the beauty underneath.
“Is there any room for me in there,” she nodded at the ruffled sheets and the blanket you tucked yourself in. Her eyes flashed and the pearly white of her teeth peeked through behind her lips.
“Plenty.”
Sliding off her shoulders, your shirt fell on the floor in a messy pile. She leaned in and tugged on the blanket, then slid underneath. The feel of her proximity stole the breath from your lungs and when her skin touched yours you forgot how to breathe altogether.
“Do you want to go back to sleep or can I have a good morning kiss?”
How was it possible for one woman to turn you into such mush? But when she spoke, when she moved, blinked, smiled or just looked at you that way, you forgot your name, your past… everything. It was just you and she. Nothing else existed.
“You can have anything you want,” you confessed, before her lips silenced your voice.
The end.
