Platypus 2: Celebrating With Calamari

Catherine looked over her paperwork and sighed. It hadn’t changed anything. She had thought that maybe something would’ve changed within her relationship with Gil, but nothing had shifted. Things were exactly the same—except that they had had mind-blowing sex in his office days before. It didn’t make sense; she had been trying to figure him out, see if she affected him, see if there was more than a one-sided attraction between them. There was, but things hadn’t changed.

She closed her eyes, letting the flashbacks assault her: undressing in front of him; touching herself while he watched; christening the sofa, the desk, and chair. She sighed, thinking back to the last contact they made: him helping her out of the boat. His hands on her ribcage created such turmoil inside of her that she had to grip onto his shoulders to support herself, steadying herself before letting go of him.

She was such a fool; he didn’t love her. She knew what a one-night stand looked like, and office relationships never worked. He had just gotten caught in the moment, and hadn’t been able to resist her persuasions.


Her eyes snapped up before she realized that it was Gil in the door to the Evidence Room. She silently cursed herself, hoping that he didn’t think she seemed too eager to see him. “Hey, Gil,” she tried to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Want to come over for breakfast?” When she arched an eyebrow, he continued in a light voice, “Calamari and beer.”

She chuckled. “Sure. I just have to call my sister and tell her I’ll be a little late picking Lindsay up. Want me to meet you at your office?”

“How about by my car...” he spoke, his eyes leaving hers. She beat herself up inside after he reacted to her comment about his office.

“Sounds great. I was going to ask you to drive me home, anyway. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”


The car ride had been very quiet and awkward. Catherine thought that they had moved past the awkwardness, but apparently they never did. Gil had been trying to make conversation with her, but it was weak small talk and Catherine was finding it hard to focus.



“We’re here.”

She blushed. “Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t—” she stopped talking momentarily, only to ask: “Are we really having calamari?”

He smiled. “We haven’t done anything together, just us, except process that crime scene. I thought we should celebrate cracking the case. I had a little bit delivered earlier in the night, with some other stuff.”

She felt her hand seeking his. “It’s a great idea. Thank you.”

On the stairs that connected to the front door of his townhouse, she felt him put a hand in the curve of her lower back to guide her upwards. She relished the contact, and found herself wondering if something would happen between them that morning.

He opened the door and invited her inside. She slipped her shoes and coat off and walked into the living room. She liked his home; it was comforting and attractive, very much like its inhabitant. “No bugs lurking around, ready to jump on me with their hairy legs?”

“The tarantula is at the office.”

She sighed, smiling. “Good.”

“Beer?” He asked, heading into his kitchen. She told him that she’d love one, and stood on the other side of his counter, still in the living room. “Here you go,” he smiled into her eyes, passing her an unopened bottle of beer. She twisted the top off with some difficulty, but before she could drink, he asked: “Should we toast?”

She shrugged. “To what?”

He shrugged in a gesture that mimicked hers. “Accidents?”

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to read him. “Sure.”



“Where did you just go?”


Gil tried to explain. “You closed yourself off just there... you have something you’d rather toast to?”

“Accidents, Gil,” she responded. “What are you implying?”

His explanation was structurally sound. “The case we solved was an accident, Catherine. With the exception of the husband. That was just taking the law into his own hands. What are you implying that I was implying?”

She felt her cheeks heat up. She sipped her beer. “Nothing.” She held her bottle up. “To accidents.” She felt his eyes on her as she turned and headed to the sofa. While she relaxed, she heard him moving around, probably preparing the food they were going to eat.

“What are you planning to do tomorrow?” Gil asked while he moved around the kitchen.

Catherine turned her head to look at him. She watched him toss the dishtowel over his shoulder before responding. “Well, Lindsay doesn’t have school... I was hoping to take her to a museum or something. She likes exciting, pretty costumes and things from the old dance places.” She sighed, sitting up a little. “You know, the things girls dream about.”

“Is that what you dreamed about?”

She shook her head, smiling. “Nah. I dreamed about horses and fields, and cute cowboys.”


She nodded. “Yeah, with their weathered and rugged good looks, their hats...” she wrinkled her nose. “However, after a while, being called ‘ma’am’ or ‘little lady’ got annoying.”

“And then what?”

“Bright lights, big cities,” she smiled. “And, here I am.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled back at her. “If some cowboy swept you off your feet, I’d be at a loss.”

When he said things like that, she had to wonder what he meant by them; if it had only been a friendly gesture, she would’ve liked to know, because she could try to prepare herself for getting over whatever had happened between them. She looked into his eyes, but couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

The oven beeped. Gil scurried around before announcing: “The food’s ready.”

“Great,” she said, slowly standing up to join him in his kitchen. “I’ll get the plates.”

“Thanks, Cath,” he said while finding a large spoon to use for putting servings of food on the plates she pulled out. “We can go out and sit on the sofa and watch a movie or something, if you’d like.”

It sounded good to her, not only because his bar stools were uncomfortable, but because she was hoping to see if the sparks were still there between them. She took the plates out, setting them on the coffee table; Gil returned with two more bottles of beer.

She winked. “Trying to get me drunk?”

“Would you let me?” He winked back at her, setting his plate in his lap to start eating. She chuckled, glad to see the mood changed a little bit, and swatted his arm. After she took a couple bites, he asked: “Like it?”

“It’s good,” she turned to look at him between bites. “Thanks very much. I appreciate it.”

He nudged her playfully with his shoulder. “You should know by now that I don’t need words.”

She nodded. “I know, but it’s still nice to hear them.” She took a long mouthful of her beer. “Been a while since I had beer.”

“Did you want something else?”

“No, no, no,” she turned to face him, almost jarring her plate that was resting on her thighs. “It’s perfect. Just what I was in the mood for. Stop... fretting... or whatever it is you’re doing.”

He smirked. “Alright. If you say so.”

“I do,” she said, tapping her bottle gently against his. “So, drink up.”

She loved when Gil chuckled; the sound was a source of comfort and arousal at the same time. “Trying to get me drunk, Cath?”

“Would you let me?”

He didn’t answer, instead raising his bottle along with one eyebrow. She laughed, and continued eating. Sitting next to him was a little nerve-wracking, but she had survived; she wondered if it was difficult on him, as well.


When the plates were empty, Catherine immediately jumped up and took the plates to his sink; any more time in such close proximation with someone she felt so much for was going to drive her crazy, so she had to get away.

“C’m’ere,” Gil reached for her wrist when she came back. The surprise in the action caused her to stumble into his lap. She nearly laughed at the result of his actions. “You okay?”

She adjusted herself, hoping to cause some friction. “Yep. You?”

“Better,” he answered, still holding onto her wrist, leaning into her hair; she thought she heard him inhaling deeply, but she wasn’t sure. “Definitely better.”

“Good,” she tried to turn and look at him, but she was a little nervous. If something was going to happen, this would have to be the moment. She didn’t want to ruin it, but she didn’t want to do nothing, either.

So, she adjusted herself again, so that she was facing him. “You have a couple of hours before you have to take me home so I can get my daughter.” He wrinkled his brow, trying to follow what she was saying. “Now or never, boss.”

His hands connected with her lower back. She squirmed closer to him. He smiled. “Quit your fidgeting, Cath.”

“Well, you could fidget with me.”

“I could.” He nodded in agreement, letting his arms fall naturally so they were touching her, instead of being held awkwardly to the side. “But, you’re not upset tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “We could just celebrate,” she dipped her head, finding the spot on his neck he liked kissed so much. When she felt his body become tense, she looked up. His eyes were glazed over, lust flaring up inside of him. “Sex is a great reward.”

“I know,” he nodded, barely able to form a proper sentence. She giggled, straightened herself up, and pulled her shirt off. One quick flick of the wrist and it was behind them, somewhere on the floor around the small table. “Cath...” He leaned forward, kissing her collarbone. “You’re beautiful.”

“Now, those are words I like to hear everyday,” she giggled. His hands moved up until they were cupping her face. “Kiss me.”

In a combination of sitting up and pulling her down, he spoke. “Something I’ve been dying to do all night.” She sighed softly when his lips met hers. This was what she wanted.

“No games,” she whispered, leaving his lips to kiss along his jaw. “I just want you tonight.”

“Darn,” he muttered, sarcastic tone rising in his voice. “Well, I guess just you’ll have to do,” she jokingly slapped his arm, but continued to kiss him, “Some other time...”

“Right,” she agreed with a nod, letting her hands unbutton his shirt. Neither of them bothered to slide him out of it, but it hung from his arms, still covering some of him. His hands reached for her waist, idly fiddling with the button on her pants. When his fingers made contact with her stomach, she sucked her breath in. “Tickles, Gil.”

“You’re ticklish?”

“Yes,” she paused, looking up from his chest, and nodded. She watched as his eyes darkened, and a mischievously twinkle appeared. “Gil... what are you thinking?”

“Ohhh,” he smiled. “Nothing.”

“Gil...” She tried again, suspecting that he was up to something, but not knowing what it was. “Seriously.”

“Seriously?” He looked at her, still smiling. “Nothing...” Before she could react, his hands were on her, gripping and tickling her at the same time. She gasped and shrieked and giggling, begging for a reprieve.

Catherine managed to get out of his grasp, but he caught her. “Hey! No fair! Stop! Gil! Uncle!!” She spoke each word between deep breaths and giggles. She squirmed, he never relented. He’d just reposition himself and continue.

“Oh boy...” Gil grinned down at her, while he rested over her hips, straddling her slender form and pinning her to the floor at the same time. One of his hands had managed to secure her wrists above her head. His other hand was busy; he’d tickle her along her ribcage, and when she bucked against him, he’d return to the waistband of her pants, where he first discovered her weakness. “Doesn’t look good, Cath.”

She panted. He was teasing her, and enjoying her frustration! She could feel him above her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him inside her, but she didn’t know how much longer he was going to take exploring her sensitive skin.

“No?” She managed to ask when her breathing was back to normal. He shook his head, but didn’t talk. Instead, he bent down and kissed her. The wind was knocked out of her sails again. “Gil...” She tried to talk, but she couldn’t get more than his name out. His mouth trailed lower; she found herself whining for more.

“Patience, Cath,” he paused to look up at her.

“We don’t have time for patience.” She frowned. “How about some other time we work on that virtue?” When he didn’t respond immediately, she thought she said something wrong. “Gil?”

“Some other time,” he recovered, smiling and nodding; he didn’t wipe the worries from her mind though. She wondered what had made him disappear. He slid down her body, and after playing with the button and zipper on her pants, slid them down with her. He kissed his way back up her legs, leaving Catherine wriggling and moaning, waiting for more. He chuckled. “Yes, it will have to be some other time.”

“Good,” she pulled him up to meet her in a deep, searing kiss. This was what felt right, this was what she craved. His hands grabbed at her, much like her hands grabbed at him. They undressed each other as quickly as they could.

When he thrust into her, she moaned loudly, and gripped him to her with shaky hands. He nuzzled her, the act only aroused her more. She pushed for more, and he met her every step of the way.

She cried out when she felt herself giving into the pleasure, a mixture of words that she wasn’t sure either of them would understand. She watched his brow furrow, and his lower lip quiver.

With one mischievous grin that she knew he wouldn’t understand, she leaned down, and used her teeth on his chest. He moaned once when she lightly nibbled on his nipple, and when she bit down a little harder, he cried out, and found the same release she did.

Spent, she collapsed against his chest. She heard his heart beating, the rhythm quick at first, but slowly slowing down. She felt him move, and then she heard his voice. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“You liked it?”

“Yeah,” he said as she raised her head to look at him. “Should we get—”

She put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Not yet. I don’t have the energy to get up and going.”

He laughed softly, letting his head fall back. “Good. I don’t have the strength, yet, either.”

The End!

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