"So I liked your tough act yesterday."

Grissom shot Catherine a delusional look from his peripheral vision.

"What?"

She replied, imitating his voice, "I hand out the assignments…this isn't a negotiation…"

He nodded and recalled his little outtake with Sara the other day.

"What, too much?" he asked.

"Not enough."

Catherine shook her head and raised her brows, framing her azure eyes within the dim light from the interrogation room. Jim was continuing to question their prime suspect in the recent RUSH case, but it was all the same as before. No new evidence. No new suspects. Nothing.

Grissom was eyeing her with his own set of blue eyes.

"What's enough?"

"You could've thrown in a little extra enthusiasm. I mean, yeah—the raised voice was a bonus, but you could've done better," she explained. "Sara would have just loved it."

"I mean for you, Catherine," Gil added. He glanced at her once again before returning his attention to the conversation before them, in front of the glass.

"For me?" Catherine asked. She turned to him and shrugged. "What can you give me?"

"A lot."

"Exhibit A?" She smirked seductively, leaning against the two-way mirror.

He did the same. "Proximity."

"Exhibit B?" Catherine pressed on. Their faces were inches apart.

Grissom leaned forward and gently caressed her cheek with the tip of his fingers, stroking away various strands of hair from her face. "Physical contact."

She smiled and closed her eyes at his touch. "Exhibit C?"

"Intimate contact," he answered. She shot her blue eyes open just in time to find his lips capturing her own in an inviting kiss, which he soon deepened.

Catherine moaned. "Gil," she managed to whisper in between the colliding of their tongues and lips. "E-exhibit D…?"

He moved his lips in a trail down her neck until he reached the collar of her T-shirt, then began moving his fingertips down her collarbone. When he found one of her breasts, she gasped, and was filled with a wave of eroticism throughout her body.

Catherine reached down to clamp his hand firmly atop the breast he had been caressing and engaged his other hand to do the same.

"Catherine," he whispered, returning his lips to her mouth and breathing in her scent.

She found her own arms wrapped around his torso and wasted no time in un-tucking his shirt and carefully bringing her hands under it to caress the warm skin of his back. The next moment went by enjoyably, as he moved to nibble on her ear—and she on his neck—and then Catherine got down to business.

She slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the bare skin of his chest, and searched over his nipple with her tongue. His hands found the bottom of her own shirt and he lifted it over her head. Realizing that the nature of women involved so many offending layers, he sighed.

"Gil, it's just a bra. It can't be that hard…" Her words collapsed into a moan as he unclasped it and took her breasts in his hands. "Mmm, right there…" she managed to let out in a groan.

"What was that?" He shot his head up and gazed into the interrogation room, hearing something of interest.

"I don't give a shit—and neither do you. Get back to work. Remember? You're showing me Exhibit D," she explained, helping his head down to her breast, and escaping with a moan when he slithered his tongue out over her nipple.

"Part of Exhibit D involves you," Grissom told her. He looked up, smiled, and motioned towards his pants. "I need you. I mean you're help," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, well, I'm all for it. Does this involve extra pay? Because I'm pulling overtime," she joked, reaching down and letting her fingers grasp his fly and pull it down, revealing a pair of boxers. She quickly pushed the boxers down his legs and pulled out his erection, smiling when this caused him to roll his eyes back with pleasure.

"Cath…" he mumbled, growing in her hand.

She bent down and ran the tip of her manicured nail over the length before sliding it into her mouth and sucking him up for all she was worth. He grasped her shoulders, feeling himself nearing the edge.

"Cath…" he repeated.

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, Gil? Not enough for you?"

"No…I-I want you," he complied.

Catherine smirked and he helped her get off the rest of her clothing. Gil slowly sat himself down on the chair and steadied her hips atop of him, sliding into her, and sighing as her vaginal muscles contracted around his erection.

He guided her hips back and forth, loving the feel of them grinding against his own.

"Faster," she murmured. Their lips found each other as he forced into her at a tremendously fast pace.

Gil's grip on her hips tightened—and her nails dug deeper into his back—both wanting to achieve their orgasm. For Catherine, hers was nearing much faster than she had expected, and rushes of numbness spread throughout her body.

"Just let go," he whispered into her ear. The heat of his breath tickled her skin as Catherine reached for her release. His name escaped her lips as she shook tremendously and closed her eyes tightly, loving every wave of intensity that was sent through her body. Apparently, her orgasm sent Gil to his edge, and he found his achievement very near. He also shook violently and emptied deep within her core. For a few moments, they both held each other, sweat droplets rolling down their damp hair and cascading about moist skin. Catherine slowly sat up and gazed into his blue eyes, heavy with fulfillment.

"Exhibit D," he murmured, "sex."

"Well," she began, "I like Exhibit D best of all." Her eyes sparkled and she leaned over to set a gentle kiss on his lips. "Really." There was a moment of silence (except for soft moaning) when Gil and Catherine realized that the interrogation room was empty.

"I never realized how distracting sex can be," he commented with a slight laugh, lifting her body off of his own.

"Oh, you'd be surprised." She laughed as well, gathering up her clothes and putting them back on.

"Gil?" she asked.

"Yeah, Cath?"

She hesitated, clasping her bra. "We just had sex in a crime lab."

Grissom smiled. He was in the process of looking for his right sock. "Let's hope the kids don't bring an ultra-violet in here. The place will light up like the Fourth of July."

"Fortunately, there's bleach."

"Aw, but Catherine," he began, smirking, "on the job, we learn that even bleach can't wash away…everything."

"Right."

She looked up and handed him his sock, which had been clinging to the inside of her panties.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"So, Cath?"

"Yeah?"

"Was that enough?"

She smiled. "I think a candlelit supper after shift—your place—will answer that."

They both chuckled and slowly tiptoed out of the room.

The End