Cocoon

Rated R

She was smothering him.

Every morning after shift, they'd go back to her apartment or his townhouse. Before the front door was shut, her shirt would be off, and her hand would be reaching for his belt.

"Wait," he'd pant. "Slow down."

But then she'd have her hand on him, circling her thumb around his weeping slit, leaning forward to nip at his neck, and he'd forget exactly what "slow" meant.

They'd shed their clothes on the way to the bedroom. Sometimes, they couldn't wait, and he'd fuck her on the counter, over the side of the couch, against the door. She'd pull at his hair and dig her nails into his ass to get him deeper, deeper.

When they did make it to the bed, they'd get their legs tangled in the sheets until they cleared the bed of everything but naked skin. He'd pump into her and she'd make those little noises in the back of her throat that made him come every time.

The problem was her limbs. Long arms and longer legs, and she insisted on wrapping them all around him during sex. Binding him, smothering him till he couldn't breathe. A thick cocoon of elbows and knees and fingers, pinning him down, taking possession.

Afterwards, she was always drowsy, always wanting to cuddle. Cuddling wasn't just her leaning on his chest. No, cuddling for Sara seemed to mean every inch of her skin covering every inch of his.

For the first month, he'd worn condoms, finding relief in the barrier, the thin wall between them. Then she'd surprised him with a birth control patch, and she pulled him in a little deeper.

It wasn't going to work. He couldn't breathe, not with the tight corset of Sara Sidle cutting off his air supply. So that's why one morning in May, when they were shedding their clothes and tasting each other's tongues and she asked him what his fantasy was, that's why he pulled out the six silk ties.

They cleared off the blankets together, and she clambered onto the bed, all legs and ass. Tight, he tied her tight. Four expensive silk ties, connecting her to all four bed posts. She was spread wide, spread flat. There would be no smothering today.

The fifth tie covered her pretty brown eyes. As he was about to stuff the sixth in her mouth, she whispered, "I trust you." Then she tasted silk and was silent.

He catalogued the freckles, the tiny scars, the faint tan lines. He tasted her navel and bit the tips of her fingers. He even ground his knee against her mound, and still she was quiet.

Small breasts, the right size to fit in his palm. Soft, they were soft, and his lips savored each nipple. He wanted to suck on her earlobe, but one of the ties was blocking her ears.

Two fingers slid in easily, and her wetness told him what her silence had not. He ran his beard along her inner thighs. Hummed against her clit, just the way she liked, but she didn't move, didn't hum back.

Finally he positioned himself over her, thrusting hard, in and out of the slick depths, and he was cold. Had to stop mid-thrust, because the room was freezing. Push harder, he thought, the friction will warm you. So he did, and with every push, he felt something tearing inside him. There was no pain, just the definite sense of ripping, and cold.

He needed to kiss her. She could mend the tear, he was sure of it. The tie came out and his mouth found hers. Had it always been so sweet? Firm and yielding all at once, satiny smooth lips and a rough, naughty tongue.

But the hole was still there, and so he unbound her eyes. Chocolate depths shone at him, and when he pushed deeper they rolled upwards to expose their whites.

She was shivering, too, he noticed. So he untied her legs, which immediately wrapped themselves around him. Warmth began to trickle through his veins again, and he shuddered in relief, pushing faster. But Sara was still shivering, so the last ties were removed, and her arms went around his shoulders, her fingertips pushing delicately into his skin.

"The hole," he gasped, pistoning in and out of her without control.

"Grissom?"

"The hole," he repeated, half in terror, as he felt it ripping further.

She tightened her arms and legs around him, pulling his mouth down to hers roughly. And when he came, he saw blinding light as the tear opened completely.

They were still breathing heavily as they brushed the silk ties off the bed. Sara draped her arm and leg over him and fell asleep, not noticing when he pulled her closer.