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A Tour of the Heart (8/?)
by somewhereapart (somewhereapart)
at March 27th, 2009 (01:22 am)

Title: A Tour of the Heart (8/?)
Author: SomewhereApart
Fandom: CSI: Miami
Characters: Eric/Calleigh
Rating: NC17
Summary: They say if you really want to understand someone, you have to understand where they come from.

Catching up?
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

The drive from Jackson to Darnell was…. well, scenic would be one word to describe it, but it wasn’t necessarily the one Eric had in mind. He was a city boy, born and raised, and while he could appreciate the occasional break from urban sprawl, there was something unsettling about looking around and seeing nothing but trees and land for miles. He had this image of the rental car breaking down (which unlikely, it was a new-model Toyota, and it ran just fine), and having to walk miles to the nearest gas station or hope for a house along the road. He was just glad it wasn’t nighttime. Lonely, dark country roads mostly made him think of the serial killers on those true crime shows that Calleigh settled for every once in a while when there was nothing else on TV.

The thought of Calleigh made him glance at his cell phone – he’d lost service right after he turned onto highway 17 and had yet to get back more than one bar – and that was only when the wind blew just right. When they’d talked last night, Calleigh had warned him there was a dead zone and assured him he’d get service back a few miles from her grandmother’s house. It was probably for the best, he supposed. They’d be together for the next few days, better to let her enjoy her morning alone. Besides, he’d tried calling during his changeover in Charlotte and she hadn’t picked up.

He hoped she’d been sleeping; she hadn’t done much of that lately. He wasn’t sure if she thought he knew about all the nights she’d half-wake him by slipping out of bed, closely followed by the white noise of the TV or the quiet sounds of her in the kitchen before he nodded off again. Even when she stayed in bed, she didn’t seem to be sleeping soundly, tossing and turning, sighing, waking up with a start. To be honest, her restlessness was robbing both of them of precious sleep, but there was no talking about it. There’d been no talking about anything that was wrong for weeks. Fighting, absolutely, but no talking.

He hoped that would change now, hoped the time away had been good for her. Hoped these few days would be good for them. He’d never been this invested in a relationship before, never been so thrown by someone else’s problems. He’d never spent nights awake, wondering if his girlfriend was going to be okay. Not until Calleigh. He wasn’t sure what that said about them, and he wasn’t sure if he should be scared of it. He wasn’t sure of much, to be honest, aside from knowing he wanted to be the one she turned to when things were hard. And until recently, he had been.

It scared him that that could change, that he could somehow suddenly be so cut off from her. It had been a long time since he’d looked at Calleigh and seen a stranger, and he’d been wracking his brain trying to figure out why it had become that way now. And what to do about it. He didn’t want to leave her, that was for sure, but if things didn’t change… how does someone stay in a relationship where there’s such a disconnect? He wanted to fix her, but knew he couldn’t. He wanted to fix them, but knew he needed her help for that. He wanted things to be back to the way they were before. But before what? Before when?

The thoughts of her, of them, had him so distracted that he almost missed the turn onto the bare road that lead to her grandmother’s house. He swung hard to make it, kicking up dirt as he righted himself and thanking a few saints that there hadn’t been any oncoming traffic to dodge.

A few minutes later, he pulled up to the old house with its wide porch and sprawling property, and spied Calleigh bent over the bottom porch step, swinging a hammer in nothing but cut-off jean shorts, a thin white tanktop, and the sweat of a muggy Louisiana summer. The realization that he was completely, desperately in love with her hit him like a punch to the stomach, stole his breath so that he had to take a minute to recover before he killed the engine and cracked the door open to step into a humidity so thick it made breathing feel like drowning.

When she stood and turned, tucking the hammer into her belt loop and raising one hand to shield her eyes from the sun as the other waved a greeting, a smile brighter than the sun illuminating her face, he recognized her for the first time in weeks. And he realized that this was what he wanted more than anything else. He wanted to come home to Calleigh, in a big house, with a yard and kids and dogs. He regretted suddenly that he hadn't known this before, that he hadn't come here with a ring for her, because he knew in that moment that he couldn't leave this place without asking her to marry him.

Before he recovered from the revelation, she was trotting toward him, hesitating about a foot away before closing the distance between them and wrapping her arms around him with a soft “hi.” Eric held her close and breathed in the scent of sweat, and Calleigh, and what he guessed was the faded memory of lavender soap. She held him around the middle, arms squeezing tight as she rested her forehead against him.

They stood there for a few long moments, absorbing the feel of each other as if it had been months and not days since they’d seen each other last. Finally, she tipped her head up and told him, “You’re so cool from the a/c. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“I don’t mind,” he assured, hugging her even closer to prove his point. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and told her, “You look like you feel better.”

She ducked her head a little then, sheepishly, and took a step back to break their embrace. Eric was momentarily concerned that he’d just made her close up again, until she slid her hands into his and squeezed lightly.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “I finally got some good sleep. That’s why I didn’t get your call this morning – Charlotte pushed some Tylenol PM on me last night, and I was out like a light until ten.”

“Remind me to thank her,” Eric teased, tugging her close again and bending for a kiss, finally. He kept it slow and sweet, then pressed his lips against hers again, one more time for good measure. He was just about to pull back when he felt her tongue tease out, brushing his lip. Never one to refuse a good make-up kiss, he ducked his head low again, opening his mouth for her and indulging until the kisses were hot and needy and eager.

Calleigh was the first to pull away, breath a little fast as she whispered into the space between them that she needed to shower.

“I wouldn’t mind washing off the airport,” Eric agreed suggestively, and that was how they found themselves in the upstairs bathroom, trying to navigate around each other in the old claw-foot tub as they soaped up under lukewarm water.

The soap was indeed lavender, a fresh bar of exfoliating lavender to be exact, and he scrubbed it over her sweaty skin, teasing it lightly across her nipple and watching her bite her lip softly.

“Eric…” He ducked his head, stole a kiss from her lips. “I know there’s stuff we should, y’know, talk about, but…” she trailed off, shaking her head. “I need you right now. Can the rest wait?”

Because they had all day – and a few after that – and because she’d just made it clear that talking was definitely on the agenda (and because there was little that turned him on more than the sight of Calleigh all soaped up and slippery under a spray of water), he acquiesced. Slick hands coasted down her back to cup her rear and draw her closer, his mouth on hers again, hot on and urgent.

To his surprise, she turned out of the kiss. “In bed,” she insisted. “Let’s finish up in here, and then move to the bed.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice, especially after she nudged him out of the way and tipped her head back under the water, sending streams of it sluicing down over her breasts and belly. He watched intently as a little rivulet ran down the plane of her belly, rolling in a path that just barely skirted her sex before trailing down her inner thigh. Jesus. His mouth was suddenly jealous of the water droplets.

“Finish fast,” he insisted, handing her the shampoo and thanking God and all the saints when he caught sight of the words “two-in-one” on the bottle. While she lathered and rinsed, he caressed and teased, fingers finding her breasts and tracing circles around tightening peaks.

By the time she turned to shut off the water he was more than ready, almost antsy with need as he did a half-assed job of drying himself before wrapping the towel around her. He caught her mouth again as he rubbed the terrycloth over her curves, but a moment later she eased him away, kept a hand anchored on his arm. “Eric…” Green eyes found his, vulnerable and almost hesitant, and her voice was soft when she told him again, “I need you right now.”

Oh. Right. The look in her eyes spoke volumes, loud enough for him to realize she was talking about more than sex. The woman he loved was in need right now, and he needed to be there for her. Which meant no wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, so he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, taking a few slow breaths to rein in his lust. Then he tipped his head up, pressed his lips to her brow, and eased the towel from around her body.

He forced himself to stay slow and steady as he lifted it to squeeze the extra water from her hair, then waited, hands patiently on her hips, thumbs tracing slow circles against her hipbones as she ran a comb through damp locks. Finally, she murmured a quiet “okay,” and smiled at him, threading their fingers again before leading him down the hall to a quaint little room with a full size bed, and her open carry-on propped haphazardly on a white wicker chair in the corner.

She didn’t let go of his hand until they reached the bedside; then, she turned to draw down the quilt that seemed far too warm for the Louisiana heat, tugged down the sheets after them and slid onto the bed. When she scooted to make room for him, he followed suit, turning onto his side and pulling her into a slow, lazy kiss. She sighed against him, tangled her legs with his, and brought a hand up to skim over his skull before letting her arm rest around his neck.

They stayed like that for a little while, just laying together, mouths meeting and parting with no hurry. He felt her chin quiver once or twice, felt her breathing hitch slightly, and it broke his heart. He didn’t want her sad anymore. He didn’t want to feel helpless in the face of her sadness anymore.

Knowing that while he might not be able to calm her heart, he could certainly please her body, he eased her gently onto her back. She tugged him to cover her, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into his shoulder, her mouth dotting soft, wet kisses across his skin. It took him a moment to decipher her mantra of soft whispers: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Shhh,” he soothed, covering her mouth with his to kiss her quiet. “We’ll talk about it after, okay?”

Nodding, she arched her hips against his, her arms tightening to pull him closer. “I need you,” she whispered again.

“I’m right here,” Eric assured, sucking soft kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m glad you came,” she sighed, gasping softly when he nipped at her pulse. One of her hands found its way into the slim space between them, wrapping around him and stroking lazily up and down to send pleasure slithering through his body.

Eric moaned softly, muttered something about being glad too, and scooted down out of her reach to tease his tongue against her nipples. It made her arch and sigh, and when he began to nip and suck lightly, she ground her head back into the pillow and let loose these soft, kittenish moans that he loved. He loved everything about her in bed, truth be told – the feel of her skin, the sound of her breath, the light smell of her sweat, the way she tasted when she came against his tongue. All of it, everything, he loved it all.

When she sighed a soft “please,” her voice breathy and trembling, he decided to tell her, decided to cover her in compliments until she felt loved and treasured and perfect. There had been too many harsh words lately, and not enough love, so he swiped his tongue along the underside of her breast and murmured how soft she was right there. Planted soft kisses down her belly and told her he loved the taste of her skin. His palms parted her thighs and he told her she was beautiful, and sexy, and that he could look at her for days. That he’d missed the sight of her. That he always did when she wasn’t around.

When she reached for his hand, he met her halfway, gripping hers as he bent his head to trace his tongue in a slow circle over her clit. She arched and gasped and shivered, and he did it again, then told her he loved the way she tasted. Ran his tongue down between her folds and moaned softly, just to prove his point. Her fingers tightened around his. They squeezed even harder when he brought his lips back to her sensitive nub and sucked softly, then a little harder, again, and she was moaning and squirming.

“I love the way you come,” he rumbled against her, sucking again as she gasped and sighed. “Love the way you sound when you’re almost there,” another soft suck, then a slow lick that made her twitch and moan. “And the way you sound when you’re coming for me.”

He nipped gently and she cried out softly, stiffened for a moment before settling again. “I love everything about you.” His tongue circled her once, twice, his other hand anchored against her hipbone.

“I don’t think I’ve been very loveable lately,” she admitted quietly, the confession coaxing his head up and marring his face with a frown. He could understand why she’d said it, and there were moments he might have agreed with her, but now wasn’t one of them.

Instead, he pushed himself up until he was face-to-face with her again, taking her lips in a long, heated kiss. When it broke, he assured her that, “You’re always loveable. I always love you.” When her chin quivered slightly, he smiled and added, “Even when you’re crazy.”

It had the desired effect, bringing a soft smile to her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes, but at least it was progress. One arm looped around his neck again, the other hand stealing between them to circle his cock and stroke again. “I need you in me,” she whispered, brushing her mouth lightly against his.

He pouted, just a little, and shook his head. “I’m not done down there,” he informed, starting to scoot down the bed again before she caught his arm and held him in place.

“No,” she insisted quietly, green eyes steady on his. “Eric, I need to be with you. I missed you, I need… Please.”

She was open suddenly, vulnerable and needy in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in weeks, and he could see the shadow of grief looming just below the surface of her skin. Suddenly tonguing her into an orgasm was the furthest thing from his mind. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he nodded before he kissed her again, slowly, gently. “Okay.”

She let out a breath he hadn’t realized she’d been holding, spreading her thighs a little wider and nudging him to her entrance. Eric pressed his forehead to hers, and she guided him in for the first inch or so, then slid her hands back around to grip his hips as he sunk the rest of the way in. She trembled; he moaned. When he tried to start a rhythm, she gripped his hips tighter to stop him.

“Need a minute?” he asked softly, kissing her mouth again as she nodded, then skimming his mouth along her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. Soft little kisses, over and over, as she skimmed her palms up his ribs, gripped his shoulders. A moment later, she arched her hips against his and he began a slow in-and-out, taking his time, feeling the languid friction as he filled her up, drew back, filled her up again. He’d missed this. They hadn’t taken it slow like this in a while, and he’d forgotten how good it felt to just let his hips roll lazily against hers, the pleasure rising in a slow burn.

She was making the kitten moans again, soft, satisfied sounds every time he slid into her, and he lifted his head to watch her. Her eyes were shut, squeezing a little with each wave of pleasure that made her head arch back against the pillow. He nipped her chin, told her she was beautiful, then shifted slightly to change the angle on the next thrust.

Calleigh’s eyes popped open and she gasped, her nails biting into his skin, her breath quickening. His grin was quick and satisfied, and he began to move a little faster, hitting the sweet spot each time until she was moaning louder, deeper, her whole body quaking slightly under his as she grew wetter and wetter, hotter and hotter.

“You feel so good,” he breathed and she shifted her grip, urged him closer and nodded into a moan.

“You, too.” Her chin trembled again before she pressed her lips together hard, and he had a feeling her release would be part pleasure, part catharsis, so he cradled his arms under her shoulders and held her closer as he kept moving. “So good,” she gasped, arching her hips against his, harder, harder, and he heard the hitch in her breath, watched her eyes well a little before she squeezed them shut again, hard.

“Close?” It was more than that, he could tell, but she nodded anyway and brought her hands down to grip his rear, pulling him deeper on each thrust. The feel of her urging him into her made his toes curl, made him drop his head to her shoulder and buck into her faster, the long, lazy strokes of before abandoned for quick, short pumps that ratcheted them both closer to the edge.

When her short nails bit into his ass, he cursed softly, nipping at her collarbone, the side of her neck, her ear. Her moans and grunts grew louder, more urgent, and a moment later her felt her stiffen beneath him and arch on a pleasured cry, the sudden clutch of her slick, hot muscles around him lurching him to the edge and over with a grunt. As pleasure sparked up his spine, he thrust into her few more times, panting her name against her skin with each one.

As his muscles relaxed slowly, and his head began to clear, he felt her body beneath this, still quivering slightly. Instead of stilling, though, she trembled harder, her quick breaths beginning to hitch, and when she let out the first quiet sob, he eased himself out of her gently and pulled her close. As soon as she was cradled in his arms, the dam broke, hard, wracking sobs of grief shaking her body. All Eric could do was hold her tighter, murmur condolences into her hair, and wait out the wave as she finally purged herself. He had a feeling it had been a long time coming.


“This world keeps spinning faster
Into a new disaster,
So I run to you.
I run to you.
And when it all starts coming undone,
Baby, you're the only one I run to.”

-- “I Run to You”
Lady Antebellum


Posted by: Sabi (love_kate_walsh)
Posted at: March 27th, 2009 10:12 am (UTC)
{CSI: Miami} Calleigh - Bullet girl

This was so good. Really great.
*cuddles Calleigh* poor girl. I'm glad she has Eric to support her.

Posted by: somewhereapart (somewhereapart)
Posted at: March 27th, 2009 04:57 pm (UTC)
porch swing

Thanks. :) And yes, Cal's got some stress she needs to cry out. Luckily Eric is there for her, and we'll find out in the next chapter just what has been bothering her for so long.

Posted by: Sabi (love_kate_walsh)
Posted at: March 27th, 2009 05:49 pm (UTC)
{CSI: Miami} Calleigh/Eric - Yellow tabe

Oh that's good. Can't wait for that :]

Posted by: my_altered_life (my_altered_life)
Posted at: March 27th, 2009 07:12 pm (UTC)

Yay we find out whats wrong! Oh, and I have the sneaking suspicion, I could be wrong...that the Toyota reference was aimed at me...*cough* Although, of course, I applaud your decision to use it. Scion and Lexus are also owned by Toyota...just a random tidbit for you.

Aside from that, I loved it. :) The sexytimes are always awesomely written.

Posted by: somewhereapart (somewhereapart)
Posted at: March 27th, 2009 08:05 pm (UTC)
porch swing

Thanks babe. Glad you liked it. ;)

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