DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SEQUEL: To Staying Cool.
SPOILERS: Werewolves
Getting Hot
By Geonn
Sofia wasn't sure why she'd said yes. She spent so much time with these people at work, she wasn't really keen on spending even more time - her own time, free time - with them. But Sara had asked her - Sara Sidle, for crying out loud - and it was hard to say no.
The dinner was casually uncomfortable, the kind of dinner only a family can experience. They ate in relative silence, reluctant to bring up work and unable to think of many more subjects of conversation. When they finished the meal, Sofia counted out her part of the bill. She excused herself as soon as politeness allowed, left her money for the bill and her part of the tip, and headed out.
She was halfway across the parking lot when Sara caught up to her. "Sofia! Hold on."
She waited next to the car and Sara held up a few bills. "You paid for Warrick's meal. No one should have to pay for what he eats."
"Oh. Thanks..." Sofia took the money and said, "You could've just added it to the tip."
"Yeah, well," Sara started. She hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans and shrugged. "I-I didn't want to, without asking you first..."
Sofia folded the cash and stuck it in her pocket. "Okay. Thank you, Sara."
"Listen," Sara said suddenly. "You wanna... go somewhere for... coffee or something? Or dessert? Cake."
Sofia laughed. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded. "Yeah. I could eat some cake."
The diner was a throwback to the fifties, lots of neon and chrome. Elvis and James Dean looked down from behind the counter, both wearing their trademark sneers. Sofia got pecan pie, while Sara ordered a huge cinnamon roll and picked at it with her thumbnail. Sofia twisted her fork and cut off a corner of her pie.
Not long ago, the act of sitting next to Sara Sidle would have been near agony. Ever since the CSI left her stranded at a phone booth, in the middle of the night, for three hours, they'd studiously been avoiding one another. Then, an hour and a half next to a desolate road in the desert and they were... respected colleagues, if not friends. "So, what..." Sofia finally said. "They don't serve dessert at that restaurant?"
"No, they do. Rich, fudge-drowned, calorie spiking cubes of heart attacks."
"Unlike that tofu roll you're nibbling on?"
Sara smiled. "Okay. The truth is, I wanted to spend some more time with you. I wanted to see if the desert was a fluke."
"So, substituting dessert for desert?"
"Something like that."
"All right. So... what? We see if we have anything in common other than our jobs?"
"Exactly." She tore off a piece of her cinnamon roll and popped it into her mouth.
"Well, ever since I was a kid, I've been interested in the Civil War..."
Sara squinted into the sun and wondered how regular people did it; the sun meant bedtime, meant another night was over. Sofia cupped her hand over her eyes and seemed to read her mind. "I still can barely get used to it." Sara glanced at her. "Night shift. Going to bed with the roosters, more often than not."
"Roosters..." Sara said, about to correct her. She stopped mid-sentence and shook her head. "Never mind."
Sofia moved towards her car and said, "I guess I'll see you tonight."
"Hopefully not," Sara said. "Slow nights are always welcome."
"That's true," Sofia nodded. "Well..."
"Hold on," Sara said. She stepped forward and brought her hand up.
Her thumb touched Sofia's bottom lip and Sofia gasped. "Are you going to kiss me?"
Sara froze. She pulled her hand back and turned it to reveal the smudge of custard from the pecan pie. Sofia's eyes widened and she tightened her hand on the car door. "Oh. Tha-thank you."
"You thought I was going to kiss you...?"
Sofia felt her blush rising and said, "No, uh... forget it. I mis..."
"I could kiss you."
Sofia blinked. "What?"
"Do you want me to kiss you?"
Sofia opened her mouth, closed it and then looked at the people walking into the diner. "I... didn't mean anything..."
Sara stepped forward, keeping the door between them. She put her hand on Sofia's cheek, drew her forward and lightly brushed their lips together. Sofia swallowed, eyes open, her lips parting just as Sara pulled back. Her fingers got caught in Sofia's hair and she casually unraveled them before she put her hand down. She licked her lips and looked into Sofia's eyes. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "Was that inappropriate?"
Sara leaned against the wall as Sofia dropped down in front of her. The catch of her jeans had snapped open easily enough; the hard part was getting the pants down without either of them breaking the kiss. Sofia had finally sacrificed contact and yanked the denim down to her knees. She looked up, distracted momentarily by Sara's white panties and finished the job.
Sara stepped out of the pants and kicked them across the floor. Sofia stood and began working at the buttons of her own blouse. Sara leaned in and kissed Sofia's cheek. "Are you wearing a tank top again...?"
"You liked that, did ya?" Sofia panted. She shrugged the blouse off, revealing her white tank top. Sara slid her fingers under the hem, dragging her fingertips over the soft flesh of Sofia's hip. Sofia put her leg between Sara's and shoved her against the wall. They pulled apart and Sara looked out from beneath a web of black hair. Sofia put a hand on Sara's forehead and looked into her eyes as they kissed. Neither closed their eyes; neither wanted to give in to the other yet.
Sofia felt Sara's hands moving up her stomach and raised both arms. Sara peeled the shirt away and tossed it as Sofia undid her own bra. She let the underwear slide down her arms and let it fall. Sara brought her hands down and cupped her breasts. She ran her thumb over one nipple and pinched the other. Gentle and hard, simultaneously different, and Sofia felt a shockwave pass through her.
Sofia lifted her leg slightly and pressed her thigh against Sara's pussy. They moaned in unison and Sara pushed Sofia away from the wall.
Pirouetting like drunken ballerinas, they made it to the couch. Sofia fell first and brought Sara down with her, finding her in another kiss as they sank into the cushions. Sofia used her foot to piston her thigh back and forth, rubbing Sara through her underwear. Sara lifted her head and closed her eyes, lips parted as she began to ride Sofia.
Sofia lay flat on the cushions, staring up as Sara's mouth opened and closed in silent, desperate pleas. Sofia cupped the back of Sara's head, massaged the tight muscles just under the flesh, looked down at her breasts and the way her panties wrinkled against her thigh. 'I can never wear these slacks again,' Sofia thought, 'not without coming at the thought of Sara Sidle, half-naked, humping my leg.' She bit her lip and moved her hand down, slipping it under the waistband of her own jeans.
Sara groaned and ground down on Sofia's thigh. Sofia tightened her hand on Sara's neck and drew her down into another kiss. Sara sighed her orgasm into Sofia's mouth, her thighs turning into vice grips as her hands became talons on Sofia's breasts. Sara's body twitched, sagged and then collapsed on top of Sofia.
Sofia kept her hand in her pants, working her clit. Sara lifted her head, her dark hair fanning across Sofia's face. They locked eyes and Sofia groaned, arched her back. Sara ran her hands over the curve of Sofia's breast, tickled the erect nipple and kissed her lips as she brought herself to orgasm. She pressed her face against Sofia's neck and inhaled before she sat up. "That was nice."
"Wait until next time," Sofia grinned.
"When is next time?"
"How fast can you get my pants off?"
Sara wasn't sure, but she was determined to find out.
The End