A/N: So this is for LightWoman and csiAngel. IT IS THEIR FAULT OKAY? See, I read LightWoman's souptiems fic, and begged for a second, smutty chapter. I promised her I'd write anything in return. So she asked csiAngel if I could write icetiems, since csiAngel was busy with other fics anyway. She gracefully agreed to let me write it, and this fic was born. DA TA! *jazz hands* Anyway. There is no plot. JUST PORN. Because who the hell needs plot, REALLY? Alright LightWoman. *bounces* WHERE BE MY 'SOUP'?

Hot as Ice

"And today temperature's will be reaching record highs, high nineties at least – we may break 100, folks. So I hope you're all either by a pool, or surrounded by AC-"

Cal switched the radio off with a disgusted sigh, and his daughter chuckled from the passenger seat beside him. "I don't understand how you can hate summer, Dad. It's not natural. Summer is awesome. It's so warm, you can go to the beach, get a tan-"

"Yes, exactly. All the reasons I hate this bloody season. I mean – thirty-eight degrees, Emily is not a level of heat that is natural, alright? If you can die in it after fifteen minutes, that is not a normal temperature." He grumbled, and she rolled her eyes in his direction.

"Stop it with the metric Dad, you know I hate doing conversions, and you've lived here for, like, ever so you should be using Fahrenheit like the rest of the country. And just because you grew up in a country where the temperatures never hit the high sixties, and have that pasty English complexion-" She teased and he looked at her with feigned outrage as he pulled up to the curb in front of her friend's house.

"Hey! It's not pasty; it's just proper skin care. Plus I burn-"

"I know, you big ginger." Emily laughed, leaning over and giving him a quick hug. "I'll be back home tomorrow morning around ten, alright? Don't stay at the office too late, Dad. You shouldn't be working on a weekend anyway. Never mind the fact that it is gorgeous out." She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and he shooed her along, waving to her as she walked up to the front door. He waited until she entered the house and the door had shut behind her before pulling away from the curb and heading in to the office.

It's not like he'd wanted to come into work on a Saturday, but there was a backlog of video that he needed to analyze, and if he put it off, then it interfered with actual cases that came in. And really, sad as it was to admit, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. Emily was sleeping over at her girlfriend's tonight, and he was left at loose ends, wandering his home until she returned in the morning. Plus, the office had air conditioning, which was enough of a reason to go in anyway.

Punching his code into the security panel, he entered the office with a slight smile. It never failed, even after all these years – he couldn't just walk through this office space without being so incredibly grateful for what he and Gillian had built. And really, it was more Gillian than him.

Sure, he'd provided the foundation for all of this with his science and his books and his research, but if he were the foundation, Gillian was the beams and joists – the walls and floors and roof that kept this whole place together. Without her, he was still a foundation but what was that except just a cement hole in the ground, really?

He strode down the hall toward his office, entering it abruptly and tossing his keys on the desk. He glanced around, before powering up his computer and heading into his study to pour himself a drink. Stay hydrated. That's what they recommended during a heat wave – course they probably meant with water, but scotch was just as good, really. It's all liquid, isn't it?

He collapsed into his desk chair, opening the video archive and projecting the video on to the wall beside his desk. He grabbed a notepad, sitting his drink on the desk beside him, before finally kicking his legs up to rest them on the desk, while he reclined, notebook in his lap. Pausing to take a sip of his drink, he hit play, and then slouched down further in his chair to study the images intently.

Gillian was at her desk, shoes kicked off, reading over the latest employee evaluations and signing off on them while simultaneously scheduling time in her appointment book for each meeting so she could make note of the day and time in the open memo on her computer, changing the name and meeting times for each employee as she went along, and e-mailing the info to that employee. It was tedious work – work that she dreaded every year. Writing evaluations was an exercise in futility and frustration. How many different synonyms could you come up with for the word 'improved' or 'excellent' or 'achievements'.

She heard the perimeter alarm when Cal came in, and even opened the security program on her desktop, but she knew he was attempting to finish backlogged work, so she didn't bother to interrupt him or let him know she was here. He'd see her if he went to the break room at all, and she would pop by and see if he needed any help after she finished these evals.

If she ever finished these evals, she frowned in annoyance. If Cal gave her one gift this year, she'd really love for it to be a Human Resources Manager. Then all of this crap wouldn't even be her issue. She'd have more time to work on cases, which, believe it or not, she actually missed right now, because that was how long she'd been inundated with pointless paperwork.

She rubbed a hand along the back of her neck with a sigh. In retrospect, given the temperature outside – this was the best place for her to be. Her condo didn't have air – it did have a communal pool in the courtyard, but she never felt quite comfortable swimming there. She loved the water – always had, always would, but when you live in an adult only condo complex, you feel a bit ridiculous swimming anything but laps. She liked to float, and occasionally attempt underwater handstands and back rolls – ridiculous, fun things in the water that she wouldn't be caught dead doing in her pool.

She exhaled tiredly, turning her eyes and mind back to the task at hand. Almost an hour later (after catching herself almost falling asleep over the boring text in front of her twice) she signed the last report and sent off the last e-mail. She stood, stretching and placing her hands in the small of her back to push her hips forward with a groan. She stacked the evaluations neatly, before locking them in her drawer and moving across the hall to the break room. She was thirsty, so she dumped a ton of ice in a tall glass and filled it with water before padding barefoot down the hall to Cal's office.

He was reclined in his chair, feet up on the desk watching video play on the wall next to him. The door was wide open, so she walked in silently, finally clearing her throat to get his attention. He jerked upright in surprise, sloshing his drink all over the front of his shirt and she laughed in delight.

"Bloody hell, Foster – what are you, in ninja training? Keep sneaking up on me all the time – you know most people knock." He was pulling the shirt away from himself and she was still giggling softly, amused by just how startled he'd been. It was accidental really – she'd snuck up on him one time in the video lab, and his reaction had amused her for days on end. After that, yes, she did kind of enjoy surprising him a lot more that was strictly necessary. Or accidental.

"Oh please – if anyone snuck in it was you. I got here first." She put her glass of water down on the desk before moving back down the hall to the kitchen and grabbing a hand towel from the drawer there. She walked back to his office and threw the towel at his head. "Here. Sorry about your drink."

"You're not wearing any shoes. That is proof, that is, that you were deliberately trying to sneak up on me-"

"I was in finishing up the employee evaluations," she began –

"Oh poor sods. Next week are they? Of course you're always too bleeding nice in those things anyway. How come we don't ever get evaluated eh, Foster? I mean, I could do you and you could do me." He was eyeing her up and down as he spoke, an unrepentant grin on his face as she flushed. "I like the new choice in office attire, by the way."

She blushed harder and looked down at the simple white sundress she was wearing. "This isn't office attire, Cal, it's Saturday –"

"Well it should be. But where are your shoes?"

"Under my desk, where I left them." She arched a brow at him before walking toward him and leaning against his desk, just by where he was sitting. "I was coming in to be nice and offer to help with your work, but I can see you don't really need my help – I'll just go."

"No, no, no, love." His hand reached up, grasping her by the wrist lightly, his fingers still wet from the spilled scotch. "I could absolutely use your help. At the very least, your company – these tapes are dreadfully boring, you know that right?" She stared down into his eyes for a moment, her gaze skating across his face to take in his beguiling expression. His hand was still around her wrist, and his thumb was making tiny circles – just above her pulse point. She swallowed before nodding in agreement.

"Okay, I'll help-" The words died in her throat as they both heard a strange whirring sound, and the video died on the wall behind them, along with the computer, followed by a complete stillness that enveloped the room completely. "Oh shit!" She swore, and Cal looked up at her with a grin.

"What's to complain about – power must be down, which means I get an enforced video footage break. I'll drink to that." He lifted his empty glass with a frown, before shrugging and lifting his wet shirt to his mouth and sucking on the fabric. Gillian looked at him with an incredulous laugh.

"Are you serious? Cal! No power means a brown out – which means that our computers don't work, but neither does our AC. Or our digital locks." She watched as realization washed over his face.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Well if we call someone I'm sure there's a locksmith or a-"

"On a Saturday? We're better off just calling the power company and seeing how long the brown out will last. It's not going to heat up in here for a little bit – but we should pull all the shades now so the sun doesn't get in. I'll do that while you call the power company, alright?"

"How about I do the windows and you call the power, alright?" He stood up quickly and she rolled her eyes at him before pushing him out the door.

"Why is it that men can never phone anyone for information?" She muttered to herself, before picking up his desk phone and dialling the power company's power outage line. An automated voice informed her of the brown outs in their area – and telling her it would be three hours before service was restored. "Ugh, three hours." She hung up with a sigh, noting that the room seemed a bit warmer already, despite the closed shades on Cal's window.

She reached across the desk, draining the water from her glass in one go, before shaking the empty glass and eyeing the ice speculatively.

"Alright – how long'd they say?"

"Three hours." She sighed, and he sprawled onto his sofa with a scowl.

"What in the hell are we gonna do for three hours?" He looked over at her and she froze, her hand halfway in the glass and her fingertips grasping a semi-melted ice cube. She didn't respond to his look, simply picking one up and popping it in her mouth.

"What? I'm hot, Cal!" She stood and moved away from the window, joining him on the sofa and tucking her legs under herself primly. The leather was already sticking to her skin and she shifted uncomfortably as he sat up quickly, stopping when he was well within her personal space. His hand reached into her glass and snagged an ice cube for himself, and she pulled back with a glare. "Hey! Get your own!"

"But I like yours better, it's readily available and right in front of me." He pointed out, crunching his ice obnoxiously as he grinned at her. "So, what do you wanna do to pass time? Twenty questions? Truth or dare? Tell me any stories of sexual experimentation during your university years?" He was waggling his eyes brows as he stretched an arm across the back of the sofa, propping his head on his hand and looking at her in amusement. She knew he was joking – she knew that and even if he wasn't, she didn't have a single 'experimentation' to confess to. Not the kind that he meant anyway – though it wasn't as if she'd been a good little girl during her studies. But he'd brought the subject up, and it was in her head now – she could feel a familiar tingle diffuse across her skin, as she stared at him thoughtfully. It felt warmer in here.

"No, no, and no, most definitely not." She licked her lips and pulled another cube of ice out of her glass, this time running it over her lips to cool them down before she dropped it into her mouth. When she looked up, she saw his eyes on her, attentive and dark.

"Come on, Gillian. Can't sit here and stare at each other for hours." His voice was soft and he lifted his head, letting his hand fall just off the back of the sofa, so that his fingertips were brushing the back of her shoulder blade.

"You seem to be doing alright." She teased with a small smile, reaching for another ice cube. Logically, she knew this was dangerous – increased heat lead to increased arousal – it was a scientifically proven fact. Scents were intensified due to sweat, blood vessels dilated increasing nerve stimulation, she knew all of this, but her brain was clearly having difficulty functioning properly because this time she slid the ice down her throat and over the back of neck, down across her shoulders until it had melted away into nothing beneath her fingertips. When she chanced a glance up at him, she saw him licking his lips, his mouth slightly open as his eyes tracked the movement.


"It's hot, Cal," she warned in a low tone.

"And it's getting hotter." He agreed. "I may just die of heat stroke if you keep that up, love." She grinned and shrugged, fishing out another cube and sitting the glass on the table so her grip didn't pre-emptively melt the ice within it.

"Can't have that." She grinned before dropping the cube down the collar of his shirt as he yelped, squirming around on the sofa and tugging at his own shirt. She untangled her legs and moved back to get away from him but he ended up pressed against her and the ice cube was a pool of water on the sofa cushion behind him. She was laughing, and didn't see his arm sneak around behind her, pinning her arms down as he used his weight to lie across her legs. She was trapped, and she struggled against his grip, laughing still.

"No, Cal! Come on, I didn't mean to-" But it was too late and he'd dropped an ice cube down the front of her dress and she gasped, before biting back a moan. It was so cold and had somehow landed, trapped between her left breast and the material holding it up, and was quickly melting into a pool of water. The cold felt amazing against her skin, and she broke free of his inattentive grasp, only to find his gaze fixed on her breasts. He looked predatory, and she glanced down, flushing when she realized the ice cube had made her very white sundress, her very white halter top sundress that was double lined so she required no bra, very nearly see through. Apparently double lining did nothing for translucency when wet.

His gaze felt hot, and she shivered beneath him, a fact made readily visible by her nipple, stiffening into a peak. He groaned, and she bit her lip as the sound made her tingle all over, heat spreading and pooling between her thighs.

There was a line between them – always, always that line, and she'd often likened it to the precipice of a cliff. On one side was solidity and stability, and the other side was a terrifying plunge that was too hazardous to even contemplate. And they'd danced on that edge for so long, she felt like she had the best center of balance in the world.

But something had changed in the last year – her divorce and his increase in recklessness. A new level of honesty had been reached between them, and a whole new level of lies occurred simultaneously. And somehow – it was like the entire world, her entire world flipped over and upside down. And now that precipice wasn't where it used to be, and somehow that drop felt like her only chance for survival.

Neither of them had moved, his gaze affixed to her wet top and she was arching below him in a vain attempt to feel pressure everywhere. The room was warmer and she could feel sweat, sticky between her thighs, a sheen on her back that made the leather cling. She could even see a bead of sweat on his forehead and the whole room was just so damn hot all of a sudden, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

She arched her back further – up, and up, praying that he would take the initiative, but he remained frozen, his tongue on his lips and his eyes fixed and dark. "Cal..." her voice was a whinge, but he did snap out of it long enough to meet her eyes. "Please." It was a whisper and she arched up into him again, pressing her hips against his. She was hot. And she needed him. And to hell with the edge or the line, or whatever the hell they'd been dancing around for the last year. His eyes widened as he read her intent on her face and he dropped his forehead to her sternum for a moment, his breathing heavy and hot against her skin.

"Jesus Gill..."

She didn't respond verbally, couldn't because he'd turned his head and his mouth had latched onto her nipple, over the already wet fabric. The cotton was rough and his tongue was warm, and the combination of the two made sparks arc through her body as she bit her lip and buried her hands in his hair. "God, yes, Cal." His teeth scraped against the underside of her breast gently and she shifted beneath him, pressing her legs tighter together in order to calm the swollen flesh between her thighs.

She pulled on his hair, once, twice – the second a shaper tug so she could drag him up to her level, meeting his mouth with hers. He tasted unbelievable and almost exactly like she'd imagined all these years. Rich and bitter, with a hint of smoke and scotch and she wanted to devour him. Her teeth scraped against his bottom lip before she slipped her tongue into his mouth, sliding it around his own and moaning in the back of her throat. His hands were busy, sliding up her arms and reaching under her hair to untie her dress, before slowly peeling it down, exposing her breasts to his view as he pulled away from her, his breathing harsh and shallow. His eyes met hers for a moment, his expression serious. "You are absolutely stunning, Gillian, do you know that?" She blushed, her skin overheating and the blush spreading down past the tips of her puckered nipples. He grinned in delight, before reaching over for the ice, snagging a cube and tracing her clavicle with it. She moaned, and tilted her head back, thrusting her chest forward to give him better access. "Like that do you, Gill? You need a little cool down, yeah?"

The ice cube slid down her sternum, was swirled over each breast in turn before it finally skated across her nipples as she drew in a breath. Her hands were gripping his shoulders reflexively and she gasped when he drew a nipple in his mouth – the shock of going from icy cold to scorching hot making her moan.

He lifted himself up a bit, lifting the skirt of her dress until it bunched at her waist with her top, and he sat up, grabbing one more ice cube to trail up her legs, darting behind her knees and melting up her thighs. "You're hotter here." He leaned down to press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh and she bit her lip, her hips turning towards him naturally even as her legs fell open further. Her hands fisted in her own skirt, because she couldn't reach him and they felt useless and restless and she wanted to touch something, anything, but most of all him.

She reached for him, tried to sit up, but his hands on her shoulders stopped her, pressing her back down. "No, love, let me – let me do this."

She pouted but nodded in agreement. "Then it's my turn?"

"Isn't it your turn now?" His smile was barely there and she shook her head, her eyes drifting down across his body, focussing in on the tightness in his slacks and she licked her lips.

"Nope. Turn about's fair play, Cal." He drew in a breath and she smiled, lifting her hips and looking at him expectantly. He grinned, sliding his hands under the elastic of her panties before drawing them down her legs and tucking them into his pants pocket. She glared at him for that particular move, but he just grinned, unrepentant, before popping three cubes of ice into his mouth and sucking. He glanced down at her, and his hands trailed up her thighs, until his fingertips skated over her slick and swollen sex.

Her hips twitched and she moaned when he lowered his head, and his tongue followed the same path as his fingers. His mouth was ice cold and she shivered, her hands burrowing into his hair as she lifted her hips, pressing herself against his cold tongue more firmly. She could feel him smile against her skin, but he didn't lift his head, he simply continued to lick and suckle at her swollen lips while she moaned and writhed beneath him. "Inside, Cal – I want to feel-" her breathing hitched as his tongue pushed inside of her and she shivered at the latent coolness of it, "yes."

It felt delicious, soft teasing strokes that filled her but not nearly full enough. She whimpered in dissatisfaction and he hummed in response, his hand moving up to her clit and his thumb pressed down sharply while she bucked beneath him. "Yes, right there, Cal. Come on. Come on." He lifted his mouth from her with a grin and she paused, staring down at his face between her thighs, grinning, with her wetness on his lips and chin and she held her breath at just how erotic an image it was. His fingers slipped inside of her, twisting and curling deeply until her hands were scrabbling for purchase, one in his hair, one twisted in the cotton fabric of his shirt as she breathed his name, in and out, over and over again. The force of her orgasm shook her and she looked down at him, sitting back with a satisfied grin. She felt boneless and completely languid, but that feeling dissipated quickly as she watched him lick his fingers clean. She shivered, scrambling into a sitting position.

She launched herself forward, her hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt even as she licked the smug smile off of his mouth. She could taste herself on his tongue, and she loved it – her sweet and tangy mixing in with all his other flavours for a heady combination. She finally unbuttoned his shirt, tugging it off of him impatiently and she grabbed his shoulders to pull him forward just enough before pushing him to lay back so she could kiss her way down his exposed skin.

She licked down his throat, biting on the muscle between his shoulder and neck, grinning hen his hands at her waist tightened almost to the point of bruising. She grinned, looking down at him, "Like that do we Dr. Lightman?"

"I'd like anything you do Gillia-" She bit down there again, giggling against his skin as she soothed it with her tongue afterward.

"Tell me how I make you feel." She whispered the words in his ear as she moved down, pressing her lips against his shoulders, along his clavicle before kissing him three times, just above his heart. His skin was warm and she sat up, swallowing half of what water and mostly melted ice cubes there were left in the glass, letting them cool the inside of her mouth before she swallowed, setting the cup down before she leaned down and flicked a tongue over one of his nipples. He gasped and she smiled, one hand holding her hair back as she pressed cold kisses across his chest. "Talk, Cal, I love your voice." Her words were muffled against his skin but his hands slid up her back slowly, to tangle in her hair and hold it back for her as she licked the side of his ribcage, delighting in how hot his skin felt against the cool of her tongue.

"Oh God, love – I don't know if I can even – complete sentences." She giggled, her face lower now, buried in the soft skin of his belly as her hands quickly undid his belt and pants, shoving them open and down his thighs far enough that his cock sprang free, standing, straining for her attention.

"That wasn't a complete sentence. I don't even care." She sat up and his hands fell from her hair as she wrapped a hand around his shaft – he was hot and stiff, and so smooth against her palm. She gripped him tightly, pumping her hand up and down once, watching the lubrication bead at the tip with a smile. She tossed back what was left of the ice water, before dropping the empty glass to the carpet below them with a thud. She didn't swallow the ice this time, but left it in her mouth as she lowered her head to taste him.

She flicked her tongue out gently, tasting the salt of him with and evil grin as his hands found their way back into her hair again. "Jesus, Gill – so good," She lowered her mouth until she could feel him just pressed against the back of her throat. His hips twitched and his hands pulled at her hair as he drove himself just that much deeper and she had to back off slightly as he hissed. "Oh God – so cold. Gillian – god. Gill, just," he hissed another breath him as she began to move, up and down, flattening her tongue against the underside of his cock until she could feel his pulse, pounding against her taste buds. She felt a responding ache between her own thighs and with his hands in her hair, she had a hand free, so she crawled into a kneeling position, reaching between her own legs to touch herself as she continued to move her head up and down, varying her pace and suction. "Oh jesus are you touching – jesus fuck, Gillian. You are brilliant." Her fingers slid against her own slick folds as she pressed down on her clit, pushing the bundle of nerves back and forth in time with her strokes. She moaned and his hips rose, burying himself to the back of her throat and she swallowed around him. "Oh – Oh shit."

She released him, licking up and down the shaft, her tongue tracing the veins there as her hand slipped from between her thighs, slick and wet. She moved her tongue lower, circling around his balls, and she smiled in fascination as the skin there puckered and moved of its own volition. She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his and the lust in them nearly blew her away, starting an ache between her legs again, and she moaned, licking at his balls until she pulled one completely into her mouth, gently sucking on it. "Jesus fucking Christ, Gill." He half sat up, his hands moving down to her shoulders as he pulled her up off of him, dragging her up against his chest. He somehow managed to turn them, so that she slid beneath him and he was above her on the sofa, kicking his pants off and looking at her with desperate eyes. "I need to be inside of you. I need to feel what you feel like, wrapped around me."

"Oh God, yes." She moaned, wrapping one hand around his shoulders as she licked her other fingers clean, tasting herself and watching his reaction before pulling his head down so she could kiss him, and let him taste their mixed flavours. He moaned into her mouth, gripping her hips tightly for half a second as he stopped to breathe.


"Fuck no Cal." She whined, her voice high and breathy. "Don't need it – just, just – come on." He was sliding into her almost before she even finished speaking and they both took a breath in and held it, stopping for one moment to feel everything. He was so hot, and so deep and so everywhere, she swallowed, feeling tears well up as she felt his pulse so deep within her she couldn't even adequately think of words to describe it. It felt perfect. Just so utterly perfect – and she was never one of those women who got emotional during sex, but she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs as something indescribable filled her. "Oh God. Move, Cal, move." She needed him to move – needed to put this feeling, this energy into something.

"Gillian." Her name was a whisper that her murmured into her neck, finally starting to pump his hips, slow and long and deep at first – which was so very delicious, but she clawed at his backside, her legs wrapping around his waist higher and her hands digging into his ass to spurn him on.

"Faster, Cal, please? Harder." She felt his speed and tempo increase and she lifted her legs even higher until she could feel him grinding against her clit with every thrust and she threw her head back in delight, moaning his name in cadence with each snap of his hips. His face was buried into her throat, his mouth still pressing small kisses there and she could feel his chest sliding against hers, slick with sweat. Her back was sticking to the leather again, but she didn't even care, as he moved faster and faster and she soared higher and higher until a bright light seemed to wash over her – so intense she had to close her eyes and gasp for air, the oxygen burning as it was dragged into her starving lungs. She'd just gasped his name when he bit the column of her throat, his hips snapping and pressing her down into the leather so hard she thought she might break. She screamed – a smaller unexpected orgasm quickly following the last one and she tightened her legs around him until he collapsed on top of her, spent.

For a moment, there was no sound except their harsh breathing, and finally she let out a small laugh. She could feel the sweat pooling between them and he shifted to the left, slipping out of her with a soft sigh and she shivered as the air hit her damp skin.

He pressed small kisses to her shoulder and her neck and she looked over at him with a grin. "Well that didn't cool us down very much."

He returned her smile before pressing one last kiss to her shoulder and rolling over until he landed in a heap on the carpet. He bounced up, completely naked and with a huge grin on his face. "Still hot, then, are we love? Any of that ice left in the freezer?"