When she heard Gil mumble, as his fingers tightened around the steering wheel, she turned to face him. "What are you going on about?"
He didn't respond. She put her hand on his arm. "Gil, I didn't say that to make you jealous."
"It was way before us."
She sighed. "Then... why do you have a death grip on the wheel, and why did you just say Dutch's name?" she asked quietly. "It sounds like you're jealous to me."
"Not necessarily of you," Gil admitted.
Catherine smiled. "Gil, I didn't engage in plushie activity with Dutch." She shrugged. "I think I only dated him for a few months."
"It's not just the plushie activity," he admitted. "I mean... you've done a lot. In a lot of areas. And, I'm so..."
"You're getting better," she murmured. "Dealing with people, I mean."
"You think so?"
She nodded, ponytail of wavy blonde hair bouncing behind her head. "Yeah. Know so."
"And," Gil added. "I guess I can admit that I don't like thinking about you being with other guys."
Catherine smiled at his concession. "I thought so."
"I mean, I accept it, but---"
"I know," she murmured, fighting a laugh.
Gil sighed and shrugged. She slid her hand up to his shoulder; after massaging the tense muscles, she saw his body relax a little.
He nodded. "Yes."
"I just don't like thinking of you with other guys."
"Well, you can make me yours later," she purred. When he turned to look at her, she grinned. He chuckled weakly and looked away. "What? Don't like that idea?"
"I like that idea too much," he admitted.
She laughed and put her sunglasses on.
"Well, clearly," Gil said, as they examined Bud Simmons' blue cat costume. "This kitty costume is where Bud felt safe enough to skritch---" Catherine fought the urge to giggle at Gil's use of that word. "---I wonder if he felt safe enough to explore some of the more aggressive aspects of his animus."
Catherine added. "So, if we follow ipecac and civet oil, maybe it'll lead us to the shooter. I don't see a compartment for a concealed rifle."
Although, she had to admit that she wouldn't have been surprised if she found one.
Then, they put their goggles on. Catherine grabbed her ALS and washed the blueish light over the costume. At the sight of body fluids, Catherine sighed and said: "Okay, well... I've heard of some guys getting off in some weird ways, but humping an animal suit?" She gave her head a slight shake as she looked up at Gil. "Well, whatever happened to normal sex?"
"What is normal sex?" Gil asked.
Her eyes widened. "Uh, you think it's natural for a grown human to only be intimate with a talking animal?"
"Well," Gil reasoned. "Freud said that the only unnatural sexual behavior was to have none at all. And after that, it's just a question of opportunity and preference. And," he added. "Evidently, many prefer the feel of fur to the texture of human skin."
"Well," Catherine countered. "I like hairy chests, but I'm not about to bop a six-foot weasel."
Gil's eyebrow twitched in amusement. He was about to say something in response, but Greg walked in.
"Bud is starting to look like a pretty bad cat. "Trace from his costume."
Gil looked at the printed results. "Identical to the trace we found in Rocky Raccoon's vomit. Ipecac and civet oil."
Greg smirked. "Well, that's what you get for eating..."
The younger man groaned. "Oh, c'mon. It was right there. Waiting to be said."
Catherine chuckled. "You just have to let those moments go sometimes."
"It was perfect!" Greg exclaimed.
Catherine's chuckle morphed into a laugh. "Let it go, Greggo."
Greg sighed. "Yeah... okay."
He turned on his heel and left the layout room. Gil turned and looked at Catherine. "He has too much energy," he commented quietly.
Catherine laughed again. "He does," she agreed.
Gil smiled a little and then shrugged. "Um, Catherine..."
"Would you define our sex life as normal?"
She smiled. "Well, we don't need to dress up as stuffed animals."
"Yes, I know, but---"
"I thought there was no normal?"
Gil sighed. "I just wanted to know what you think."
She smiled and walked around to his side of the table. After putting her hands on his hips, she tilted her head and studied him. "I think we have a great sex life," she whispered. "I don't think we have vanilla sex. But, I don't think we're too kinky, either."
"Perhaps vanilla with a kinky swirl?" he asked teasingly.
She grinned. "Exactly."
He smiled at her and then returned to processing the costume. She watched him for a few minutes, an idea brewing in her mind, and then she followed suit.
After talking to the valet attendant, Gil put his hands in his pockets and followed Catherine to their SUV. Catherine smiled and unlocked the doors; Gil was about to remove his hands and open his door, but his fingers brushed against a piece of paper.
Catherine was in the driver's seat when he pulled it out to examine it.
'Write three things onto this paper that you'd like to try the next time we're "alone." Then, pass it back. Love, Me.'
"Are you coming?" Catherine asked, after rolling the window down. "Gil, we haven't got all day, you know?"
He looked up at her, totally puzzled. "What?"
"Are you coming? We have a bullet to find."
"Oh. Right. Yes, dear," he said, getting into the passenger's seat and closing the door. As Catherine drove, he continued to look down at the paper; he was concentrating too hard, and therefore didn't see Catherine's smirk.
'Furry play, body paint, and I'd like to have you as my submissive for a night.'
Catherine smiled as she pocketed the note.
"Hey," Gil said nonchalantly as he approached. "Brass is back. Want to go brief him?"
She smiled more and nodded. "Sure. Let's go."
After filling Brass in on the details of the poisoning and of the accident. Brass' face showed the other two adults exactly how shocked he was.
"So," the police detective. "The raccoon was mistake for a coyote. You gotta be kidding me."
Catherine replied, "He was dosed intentionally, but killed accidentally."
"We got the ranger's rifle, we collected a bullet at the scene," Gil added. "And ballistics made a match."
"Bob Pitt was sick when he got out of the car," Catherine explained. "Wounded when he got onto the road, and dead when he hit the dirt."
Brass sighed. "Well, the rancher's going to get off, Linda's dead, and Wolfie... skates with a misdemeanor."
Catherine admitted: "We took one look at those furry suits and thought 'foul play,' but this was really just a domestic dispute gone mad."
"Hmm... fur and loathing in Las Vegas," Gil commented with a smirk.
She stared at Gil. Then, she groaned. "That was awful."
Gil smirked again. "My apologies."
Brass chuckled. "You two off the clock?"
"Yeah," Catherine said, nodding. "But, I have to head out. You two play nicely and stay out of trouble."
Brass smiled. "Who, us?"
"Yes, you," she replied, tousling Gil's hair affectionately as she walked behind him. "And please, don't deposit Gil at my door in the same condition you did the last time you went off the clock. He was an awful house guest that night."
Gil turned, craned his neck, and looked at her. "Oh, was I?"
She fought the urge to blush. "Yes, you were. You were drunk and you kicked Jacqui out."
"I did not. She chose to leave."
"Because you were drunk and disorderly all over my living room!"
Jim Brass laughed softly. "You two spend too much time together---you need a time out."
Catherine wanted to tell him they didn't spend enough time together. Instead, she rolled her eyes and said, "Just... yeah, never mind. Have fun, boys."
"See you later, Catherine," Gil said softly, holding her gaze with his. She flashed him a quick smile and then disappeared through the door. As she walked down the hall, she fought to hide a grin. She had some preparatory work ahead of her---and it was just perfect timing that Jim was taking Gil off of her hands for a few hours.
Gil paid the cab driver and walked to Catherine's house. He fumbled with his keys for a moment, before he successfully slid the correct key into the lock and turned it.
The interior of the house was quiet, he noticed, and dimly lit.
He put his keys in the dish on the table by the door, and then he toed out of his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. After putting his things away, a small card on the table caught his eye.
'Your submissive is waiting in the bedroom.'
Gil smirked. He hadn't expected she was going to follow through with the list; he thought the note passing had been a little mid-shift fun.
Trying not to hurry too much, he walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He opened the door and had to blink a few times to adjust to the candlelight; when his eyes adjusted, he saw Catherine stretched out on the bed, with her hands tied together and placed above her head.
He smirked when he took in her attire: a combination of liquid latex and what looked like pink fluff---but was actually a mixture of synthetic fibres and marabou feathers.
Catherine smiled at him. He smiled back at her and rubbed his hands together.
"I don't know where to start," Gil admitted. "I wasn't expecting to see any of what was on my list... let alone all of it at once."
"I couldn't go all out on the furry attire," she said quietly. "Consider this a compromise."
"I'll consider it a wonderful compromise."
She grinned. "Aren't you gonna get any closer?"
"Yes, my dear," he told her. "I'm just taking this sight in first."
"Hurry up," she huffed.
She smiled. "She has a slumber party tonight."
"Oh, does she?"
Catherine nodded. "Yes, sir. You'll have to pick her up in the morning."
"Okay," he replied. "If you make pancakes."
She grinned. "Okay."
Gil smiled and sat down on the bed. First, he untied her wrists. Then, he said, "I'd like you to undress me."
She nodded and pushed herself up into a sitting position as he moved back against the headboard. She crawled up his legs, and straddled his thighs; her fingers climbed up his shirt, and then made their way down after each button they unfastened.
He helped her by leaning forward. After unfastening the buttons on his cuffs, she pushed his shirt over his shoulders, and helped him slide it off his arms.
She smiled and slithered down his legs. She reached up and unfastened his belt and then his pants; at that point, he stood up to make things easier. Catherine slipped down to the floor and removed his shoes and socks, before easing his pants down.
Gil stepped out of the pool of fabric, already feeling a little aroused. She looked up at him as she let her hands travel up his legs to hook into the waistband. He nodded, even though he didn't know if that was what he was waiting for, and then she slid the boxer shorts down his legs.
Gil stepped out of those and then he sat down on the edge of the bed. Catherine crawled towards him and waited on her knees in front of him.
"If you don't want to---"
"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't," she told him, smirking. She pressed a kiss to his knee; Gil sighed softly. "What do you want me to do? I'm following your lead tonight."
"You're an awful submissive."
Catherine laughed. "Lady Heather thought I was a good submissive."
"You were, were you?"
She nodded and rubbed his knees with her hands. "I know what you want... I know how to make you happy..."
She nodded again. "I do. And isn't that what makes a good submissive?"
He smiled a little. "Good point," he conceded. "That is definitely a major part of it."
Catherine smiled and returned to kissing his legs. "Should I call you sir?" she murmured between kisses. "Or Master?"
Gil groaned. "No... don't bother with that."
She would have laughed, but he had threaded his hands through her hair, and his fingers were massaging her scalp and neck. He heard the strangled noise in her throat and then felt her shiver.
When one of her hands wrapped around the base of his erection, he groaned again and had to lean back onto his elbows. Catherine chuckled; then, she kissed her way to where her hand gripped him loosely.
Gil groaned again; he couldn't think logically when she started kissing him like that.
"Cath..." he croaked.
She smiled up at him. "Yes?"
"Why?" she inquired. "You're enjoying it."
"Come up here, would ya?" he grunted, releasing his fingers from her hair.
She grinned and stood up before getting down into his lap. She rubbed against him, causing Gil to groan another time.
"You like that, too," she purred.
"Now what do you want me to do?"
"Sit there for a moment while I think, okay?"
Catherine laughed softly and leaned in to kiss his jaw. "Okay," she whispered.
She laughed again and hugged him. Gil reached up and stroked his fingers over the pink fluff and the latex, savouring both textures with his fingertips. She shivered and sighed in reaction; her arms tightened around his body.
"You could wear a garbage bag and look sexy," he commented quietly.
"I'm glad you think so," she murmured near his ear.
"Can I peel some of this off?"
"You're in charge tonight," she reminded him. "Do whatever you want."
Gil smiled and tipped her head back; he kissed her gently twice, before kissing her with more assertion. Catherine purred under his lips and dug her fingers into his shoulders.
"I hope there's more of that to come," she whispered, when he ended the kiss.
Gil smirked. "Oh, definitely."
With each strip of latex Gil pulled away, Catherine felt her body shiver and crave more. His fingers were too gentle, too patient, and she couldn't wait.
She didn't want to push him, though; he was really enjoying himself. She felt as though she were an experiment---that shocked her, because she thought he would have had her body figured out after all the time.
His fingers explored between her legs when she was spread out for him; his eyebrows twitched with curiousity and then he brought his lips down to her breasts.
Catherine watched the display of expression and wondered what he was thinking about. When he bit into her breast gently, laving the captured flesh with her tongue, she thought much less and felt her mind giving over to feeling the sensation of his touch.
"Gil..." she whispered, reaching down and threading her fingers in his hair.
"Are you enjoying this?" he inquired against her skin.
"God, yes," she breathed. "Are you?"
"Very much so," he murmured.
Gil chuckled and gently eased a couple fingers against her opening; she whimpered and pulled her legs back to grant him more access.
"So eager," he commented.
"Duh," she grunted.
Gil chuckled and brought his other hand down to explore between her legs while he moved those fingers slowly, in and out. Catherine bit her lip and reached up for her hands for the headboard. She heard her nails clawing at the wood and wondered if there would be marks there afterwards; when Gil's fingers shifted and curled, she decided she didn't really care.
She could feel the tension building in her stomach. Her body was tight and feverish, and still, Gil played her like she was a finely tuned instrument.
He untied the fluffy belt from her waist, and brought the fabric down to brush over the insides of her thighs. She whimpered because it was too much and not enough at the same time. Her whimper made Gil chuckle---at that, she knew she was in trouble.
Gil placed a few kisses to the skin the pink material had teased. Then, he abandoned the belt to focus his attention on manual teasing.
Catherine propped herself up on her elbows and watched the expression of concentration on his face. His tongue, when not put to better use, was curled against the right side of his upper lip. His blue eyes were dark, framed by furrowed eyebrows.
His cheeks flushed when he caught her staring at him. "Yes?"
"What on earth are you doing down there?"
"Are you complaining?" he inquired.
"N-no!" she said quickly. "I just... I've never seen you look so focused. And, honestly," she added. "Haven't you figured me out already?"
Gil smirked. "Hardly."
"You're looking at me like I'm some sort of science experiment."
"'I am among those who think that science has great beauty,'" he quoted. "'A scientist in his laboratory is not only a technician---he is also a child placed before natural phenomena which impress him like a fairy tale.'"
"Not Shakespeare..." she commented.
Catherine's lips twitched into a half-smile. "Ah. And you're the kid in the candy store?"
"I'm in the best candy store ever. This one wears peelable clothes and fur and makes the best noises ever."
She couldn't smother the urge to chuckle; when the happy sound escaped her lips, Gil rubbed her hip with his hand. "May I continue?"
"Well... yeah... since you're so polite," she teased with a wink.
Gil smirked triumphantly when he flopped down next to her on the bed. He watched her chest rise and fall, as she tried to catch her breath, and then he reached out and caressed her jawline.
She turned to face him. "You are..."
"Careful, now," he teased.
She laughed softly. "A perfectionist."
"Is that all?"
Catherine rolled towards him and kissed him. "A wonderful man," she amended. "And very curious. But that's not a bad thing."
"I'm glad you think so," he murmured, brushing his fingers over her face. She smiled and turned her head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand. "Roll onto your other side," he instructed gently.
"Oh, you're really trying to kill me."
Gil chuckled. "Nah... I just think we'll both enjoy it."
"By taking too long and by driving me crazy," she muttered as she turned away from him. "You know we don't get enough pressure or friction this way to wind things to a close."
"I don't want tonight to end," he reminded her, placing a kiss to her shoulder.
"Okay, but when we both die from cardiac arrest or heat stroke---"
When Gil lifted her leg up and back, draping it over his hip, she stopped talking; he felt her body tighten in anticipation, and then, as he began to sink inside of her warmth, he felt her body relax.
She reached behind her, blindly, and managed to catch his arm in her hand. "Gil..."
"Shhh," he whispered, before pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.
"I know," he murmured, gripping his control tightly. He wanted nothing more than to flip her over and drive inside of her, over and over until he couldn't take it anymore; but, he struggled to move slowly, knowing on a more logical level that it would be the best for both of them.
"No, you don't," she countered.
"Yes, I do," he retorted, as he pushed his length all the way inside of her. Catherine shuddered and her grip on his arm tightened.
"Not nearly enough lev---"
"Oh, would you shush?"
Gil smiled and reached up to brush the rest of her hair off of her back. He placed kisses on the newly exposed skin, and then tightened his hold on her; his arm tightened around her waist, effectively binding them together.
When he started moving, he wondered if Catherine was right, if the position wouldn't be enough for them. She was mewling softly, whimpering and trying to encourage him to move faster by turning her hips slightly. He grunted and thrust against her, trying to set up a steady rhythm that would please them both.
"Oh..." Catherine whispered. "That's good."
Gil smiled a little and then closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on repeating that movement. It was awkward when they were like that; he made a mental note that that sexual position might not be one of his best.
Catherine took his hand and slid it down her body, nestling it between her legs. He found the little nub of nerves and pressed two fingers down onto it. When she hissed, he lifted his fingers, and tried to devise a rhythm that would let his hand participate as well.
He wasn't a one-man-band, but he was determined to get his hand in line with the rest of his body.
It must have worked, because Catherine was twisting and making insistent noises within a few minutes. He smiled against her neck and kissed her earlobe. In reaction, she stiffened; he drew her earlobe into his mouth and worried it with his teeth.
He guessed that move was her undoing. Seconds later, she was crying out and he could feel her muscles tightening around him. Her leg was torn between clamping down and opening up more; Gil was glad it didn't move much.
That was his last rational thought. Catherine focused her energy on moving against him; his body temperature rose a few more degrees and then he felt as though he lost himself in her sights, smells, and sounds.
He remembered crying out---her name, their love, her name again---and then he slumped against her, breathing deeply from the crook of her neck and shoulder.
Somehow, they moved. Gil didn't know if he had instigated it or if she had, but he liked that she was draped over his body, her head upon his chest.
"You okay?" she whispered.
Catherine chuckled softly. "Don't think. Just tell me how you feel."
Gil smiled and brushed his fingers through her hair. She purred quietly and snuggled into him.
"I won't be running a marathon anytime soon," he whispered. "But, I feel good."
Catherine laughed softly and lifted herself up to steal a quick kiss. "Good."
Gil tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes. "Do you mind if I sleep now?"
She laughed again. "No... not at all. In a minute, I'm gonna blow the candles out."
"What's stopping you?"
"I think I'm boneless."
Gil smirked. "You're welcome."
She poked his stomach once, making him groan; then, she kissed the same spot. "Sleep well when you get there," she whispered.
Gil heard her moving around the room, blowing candles out. He was near sleep, he could feel it on the horizon. Catherine snuggling up to him again was the last thing he remembered before passing out.