DISCLAIMER: Watch out, this is femslash. It also contains cursing (and Names taken in vain) as well as the description of a sexual fetish that certainly isn't for everyone. I'll wager it's also pushing the envelope for posting on certain websites, so be warned. Do not read it if you are underage or not into the above-mentioned things. I own nothing of Grey's Anatomy. I'm only having some fun because I just love Callie and Erica! Any errors are my own.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm a bad, bad girl. I should probably be spanked for writing this. This is my sixth Grey's Anatomy story. Written in late June, 2008.
Thanks once again to my Mighty Editor Goddess, Brenda S., who I'm grateful continues to edit the fic I'm producing in this fandom. Thanks also to Jules68, for not only her continued insight into the tiny details of Grey's Anatomy but also to her fearless talent for telling me exactly what she thinks of my writing, both good and bad. I couldn't do it without either of you!
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SEQUEL: To Sizzle.
Shower the People
By DianeB
After what seemed like an eternity, Erica felt the ballroom had cleared sufficiently enough to allow her to remove Callie's hand without being seen by half the staff of Seattle Grace. "Get out of there!" Erica unceremoniously yanked Callie's hand out from under her dress and placed it purposely on the table a fair distance away (which wasn't all that far, given Callie's chair was right up next to hers and Callie's hand was, of course, attached to the rest of her). "What are you trying to do, woman? Kill me?"
Callie, who had been for the past twenty minutes acting as if she were doing nothing but accepting praise for her singing ability from friends and co-workers, turned her attention to her hand. She lifted it and stared at it, then let it fall into her lap, turning finally to Erica with a perfect pout on her full lips. "Aw, it's a very unhappy hand now."
Erica had used Callie's "hand inspection time" to straighten her dress and the tablecloth, all the while actively trying to decide whether or not it would look odd if she were to use a couple of rumpled linen napkins to mop her soaking body. "God, you are so full of shit, Calliope Torres! Did you think no one was watching? Did you hear Yang? 'Get a room,' she said. Get a room!" Erica took a moment from her harangue to actually look at Callie, and when she did, she knew she was done for.
Callie, with her pouty lips, was watching Erica beneath hooded eyes, her expression a vision of lust and longing. "So let's, lover."
Erica, thoroughly absorbed by the hungry look Callie was giving her, was momentarily thrown. "'Let's' what?" Before she'd even gotten the question out, she knew the answer. "A room, you mean? Get a room? Good Lord, Callie, that song and your damned hand was enough for tonight. This was supposed to be a talent show, not a skin club act! I mean look at me, I'm a mess, and it's all your fault! Really, I'm getting too old for this kind of—"
"You look gorgeous, mi amor, trust me on that." Callie resumed her egging. "C'mon. Let's." Callie held up her hand, wiggled the fingers and her eyebrows. "My hand is so, so sad. I want happy hand again."
Erica rolled her eyes, trying without much success to be the mature, cardiothoracic surgeon she was, and not be taken in by Callie's suggestive shenanigans. Trouble was, she knew being taken in by Callie Torres was never a bad thing, no matter it was past midnight and they were both on duty the next day.
"C'mon, pleeeze." Now Callie added body language to her pleas, shifting closer, so that she was half on Erica's chair, rubbing her t-shirt-clad shoulder against Erica's bare, sweaty one.
Upon further thought, taken in didn't even begin to cover it.
"I want you," Callie breathed, going in for the kill, placing her lips against Erica's ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth, pearl earring and all, then releasing it and blowing a gentle breath against the moisture she produced, running the tip of her tongue lightly around the ear's translucent shell edge.
Erica, overheated as she was, still shivered at this contact. Raising a hand to Callie's hair, she struggled admirably to say something, but gave up when the heated shiver reached her belly and from there went immediately south.
Calliope Torres had a very persuasive tongue, and it had little to do with singing.
Checking in was far less trouble than they thought it would be. Apparently, other couples had been amorously affected by Callie's rendition of "Fever," and had already sought similar overnight accommodations. It was no time before they were outside a room on the sixth floor.
The instant they were inside, Callie turned to Erica and between fevered kisses began again to lift her dress, only this time she used both hands and did not try to disguise her desire. Her eagerness spilled over into her voice. "Um, shower, yeah, how about a shower? You're hot, aren't you? I mean, oh, you're hot all right," she snickered, "but wouldn't a shower feel good right now? Um, yeah, let's go, let's go."
The dress would have been a bunched-up mess by this time, had Erica not raised her arms to allow Callie to lift the thing over her head and off.
Okay, that did feel better, Erica admitted, though her skin remained sticky with sweat. A shower sounded indeed like the most brilliant idea in the universe. "Yes, let's go."
One emerald-green dress (very wrinkled), two pair of shoes, black jeans and t-shirt, and a few bits of undergarments and jewelry littered a path to the bathroom.
Erica jumped when the cool water hit her, even though she was expecting it. "Ah! Too cold!"
"Oh, you infant! I can adjust it, but I thought you were hot. Nevermind. Here, let me warm you up." But she took a moment to make a small upward adjustment to the hot spigot.
Naked, Callie's luscious, full-figured body was a thing to behold, a Rubenesque painting come to life, all generous curves of dusky, smooth skin and black, black hair.
When glistening with water, Callie's naked form was beyond all these things, moving into a world of hedonism Erica had never before imagined. "Jesus, Callie, do you know what you do to me?"
Under the tepid spray, their touching started out tentative, exploratory, as it had the first night they made love, on that day in the not-so-distant past they called "freedom."
Callie pushed Erica's wet hair from her forehead and kissed it, moving slowly down Erica's face, kissing eyebrows, temples, eyelids, nose, pausing just a little longer on Erica's lips, but staying light, sweet. Water heightened and silkened the sensations as Callie's hand fondled a nipple, and her thigh insinuated itself between Erica's legs, pressing intently against her sexual center, wet now both with water and Erica's own arousal.
Cupping Erica's breast, Callie moaned, and her kisses became more demanding, feral, until Erica's world spiraled down to only this, the carnal feel of Callie's thigh between her legs and Callie's tongue in her mouth, touching, searching, devouring. Erica knew her lips would be bruised in the morning but she didn't care.
The water continued to cascade over them.
When Erica broke the kiss to fill her lungs, lifting her face to the spray and taking a drink, Callie spoke.
"Erica, would you do something for me, please?"
The odd tone to Callie's voice had Erica immediately on alert, even in the midst of her need, wondering what her lover could possibly want that she would have to stop and ask. "Callie, my darling," she said, punctuating her words with a kiss, "anything, anything."
"I know this is going to sound very strange, but—but, I've been thinking about it for a while, and, uh, I know we haven't discussed it, but I—I think it would be a total turn-on, uh, if you would—would you—" Callie's voice dropped both in register and volume, ending in barely a whisper, "pee on me? Please."
Erica couldn't believe she'd heard correctly, but the earnest, almost desperate, look on Callie's face was plenty to convince her she had.
Erica knew of this practice, this "golden shower," scientifically known as urophilia. In all her years, however, she had never experienced it first hand, and wondered briefly where Callie had gotten the idea. Still, gazing into Callie's lovely, trusting face, she knew there could be no one else she would rather do this for than the seraph currently in her arms. The whys and wherefores hardly mattered.
Exhaling evenly, Erica released her bladder, feeling the hot fluid in vivid contrast to the water's temperature, and watched as Callie's face changed into something untamed, wild.
The idea that Callie would get off on this sparked something very old and very primal in Erica. Molten heat gathered in the pit of her stomach and radiated outward in waves until her whole body was on fire and her skin crawled. Instinctively, she ran her tongue over her lips and growled. "Oh—oh, my God…"
Callie's thigh surged forward and then away, as Erica's bitter liquid seeped into pubic curls and ran down legs, the briny scent of it filling the confined space. The two women clung to each other under the showerhead, frozen in the moment, as the urine washed away.
Time started again, as lips and bodies crashed together, hands roamed and clenched, all thought of tentative or tenderness disappearing down the drain with Erica's salty fluid. Erica drove her knee into Callie's sex, and that was all it took.
Erica felt Callie stiffen, knowing this as the start of her orgasm, but wouldn't release her mouth, as Callie so clearly wanted. Instead she held Callie's head firmly and closed her lips over the younger woman's, forcing Callie to let go her pleasure down Erica's throat, quaking with the effort.
As Callie's climax began to subside, Erica pushed herself tightly against the thigh she straddled, trying to keep herself at the glorious zenith, to hold at bay the inevitable, but fast losing the will for it. Finally unable to resist any longer, she ripped her mouth from Callie's and, steadying herself around Callie's thigh, brought her hand to the aching bundle of nerves that was screaming for more stimulation.
"Uhh—God, Callie!" Riding Callie's thigh, stroking herself with frenzied precision, the shower water now cold but unnoticed, Erica surged into a climax that eclipsed any she had had since she was a teenager. Hot and cold warred joyfully as Erica's senses overloaded and then blissfully shorted out.
Somewhere at a far distant point, with the echoing shower as backdrop, Erica heard Callie's awed voice. "Madre de Dios—that was ah…mazing."
Erica, her body still throbbing with release, could not disagree.
The End
End Note: You may never think of James Taylor's song, "Shower the People," in the same way again. <evil laughter>