Title: Phone Sex
By: lexus-grey
Fandom: CSI: Vegas/Twilight
Pairing: Catherine Willows/Rosalie Hale
Rating: NC-17
Written for: 50kinkyways
Prompt: 23. Phone Sex
Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or Twilight or the characters. Not making any money off of this, no copyright infringement intended.

For some reason, I kept the incident with the handcuffs to myself. I don't know whether it was to avoid looking like an idiot or to protect Rosalie Hale in some way. Whatever it was, I took that pair of cuffs home with me, not wanting anyone else to see them.

Two days later we had a lead on the case, and I needed to ask Rosalie a few more questions. She and her family were staying at the Luxor while they were in town, and Brass had informed the parents that they needed to stay until the investigation was finished. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had agreed without complaint, and promised to keep their children under close watch until then.

I let Nicky drive, both because he wanted to and because I didn't want to, and I knocked on the door when we got up to the tenth floor and found the room. My stomach was doing flips, and I did the best I could to keep it under wraps, but I knew as soon as I saw Rosalie that it would be hopeless. I was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, and all I could do was hope she was innocent.

The door opened and I held my breath, but it wasn't Rosalie that answered. It was a boy, who looked about the same age, and I really hoped I was not face to face with Emmett Cullen. "I'm Catherine Willows, this is Nick Stokes, we're from the crime lab, here to ask Rosalie a few questions," I said with a smile.

"Rosalie's not in right now," the boy said, looking at me rather intensely, seemingly trying to hide amusement at something or other.

I couldn't help the flash of disappointment that rushed through me. I recalled her voice, so close to my ear, calling me out for letting her turn me on when I was supposed to be interrogating her.

Nick seemed to notice my distraction and jumped in like the champ he is. "Do you know when she might be back?"

"She's gambling our life savings away," the boy said with obvious disapproval. "Such an addiction she has. We never get a moment's peace."

"Edward!" I recognized Mrs. Cullen's voice before she even appeared in front of me, and she shooed her son away with her own look of disapproval. "He's joking," she said with a little shake of her head. "Rosalie is just out shopping with her sister."

"Shopping for poker chips," Edward called from somewhere I couldn't see. "I can't drive my car because she blew all my insurance money on blackjack..."

"Please excuse my ill-humored son," Mrs. Cullen said apologetically. "Shall I have Rosalie call you when she returns?"

I still couldn't speak, now picturing Rosalie at the blackjack tables, confidently placing bets and sipping on a whiskey through a straw, and my knees almost buckled.

"That would be very helpful, thank you Ma'am," Nick said politely, giving Mrs. Cullen a nod, and subtly stepping on my foot.

Right! Yes. Job to do. I thanked Mrs. Cullen as well and endured Nick's teasing all the way back to the lab.

--

Rosalie finally called around eleven, and when Judy told me who was on the phone, I almost gave the call to Nick, but then kicked myself for being a chicken shit and picked up the phone. "Willows."

"We're back to last names?" Her voice was cool and smoky. "I believe you wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes, I have a few more questions for you," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Do you know a Roso Quinchez?"

"I cannot say that I do, and I think I would remember a name like that, so no. I do not."

"All right. Have you ever been to the Five-Ball Lounge?"

"Yes."

I blinked. I hadn't expected that answer. I figured either she hadn't been, or she would at least say she hadn't been. It was a seedy strip club in an alley off the main strip. "You have?" I asked before I could contain my curiosity.

"You sound surprised."

"Of course not, I'm sorry," I apologized, starting to get pissed at myself for behaving like a teenage boy with a crush. "Are you familiar with a dancer named Gisela?"

"I don't know if you'd call it familiar."

I could hear the smirk in her voice even through the phone line. "Meaning?"

"She gave my brother a lap dance, and I was seated across the table."

"Did she say anything to either of you?"

"You mean besides 'lap dances are twenty apiece'?"

"Yes, besides that," I said, my brows furrowed. I barely resisted the urge to add 'smart-ass'.

"I'm afraid she did not."

"Okay, thanks for calling me back, I think that's all I've got for now," I said, wishing I had a good reason to keep her on the phone.

"I don't think that's all you've got," she said, and her tone made me blush even over the phone.

"Excuse me?" I asked, managing to sound indignant.

"I think you've got much more for me than a bunch of boring questions," she explained without explaining.

Her presumtuousness made me mad. "And what do you think I've got?" I asked, treading dangerous waters. "A throbbing ache for you, Ms. Hale?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Don't forget a pair of soaked panties." She paused to let me flush a bit, and then issued two words that were less of a casual conversation piece and more of an unreasonable demand. "Touch yourself."

"I'm at work!" I hissed into the phone, looking around as if my colleagues could see into my office with the blinds shut.

"Is that your only objection, Ms. Willows?" Rosalie asked me smoothly, laying on the charm, and it was obviously affecting me even though she wasn't standing next to me.

Shit. Was that my only objection? It was the first thing that sprung to mind. Not 'hell fucking no', not 'who do you think you are?', not 'that is entirely inappropriate', but 'I'm at work'. I changed tack. "Why would I possibly want to do that for you?"

"Who said anything about it being for me? I'm fine here, playing blackjack and drinking whiskey. I don't need you to do anything. You want to touch yourself. You've wanted to touch yourself and think about me touching you since the moment you walked into the interrogation room the other day."

Playing blackjack and drinking whiskey? Holy fucking shit. "You're pretty damn confident about that," I snapped, angry because she could read me so easily.

"If I was there right now, Ms. Willows," Rosalie purred into the phone, making me wetter, "do you know what I would do to you?"

Oh, my God. My heart thudded fiercely in my chest, pulse rushing through my ears like a waterfall, as I struggled not to admit that I wanted to know. This was not okay. I did not react like this to people. I did not want to know what she would do to me, and I did not want to fuck her. "Ms. Hale, that is entirely in--"

"I'd put my hand in those tan slacks of yours..."

"How do you kn--"

"Edward told me what you were wearing." Her voice was drawing me in, making me complacent when I should be slamming the phone down.

"Oh he did, did he?" That brother of hers was a piece of work. Why would he be so interested in what I was wearing, as to pass it on to his sister?

"He did. I can just imagine how good you look in dark blue. Especially such a low-cut sweater."

"If you're playing blackjack while having this convers--"

"I'm not. I'm alone."

"Stop interrupting me!" I yelled, flustered beyond belief at the effect she was having on me.

"Mmm, feisty." A pause, and then, "I wish I was there, Catherine."

It was the first sincere thing she'd said to me, and I found myself at a loss for breath, let alone words. I heard a rustling on the other end of the line and then a soft sigh. "What are you doing?" I found myself asking.

"Taking off my pants."

Oh fuck. Talk about using your sexuality to get what you wanted. Sara should meet this woman. But what did Rosalie hope to gain from this? "Why?" I think that was a question I was entitled to ask.

"Because it's hot in my bedroom," she hissed into the phone. "Why do you think?"

I stumbled over my words so ended up saying nothing.

"I saw how you looked at me, Catherine. Were you too busy thinking I'm a criminal to notice I was looking at you the same way?"

Now that was a lie. "You looked at me like I was beneath you. And you tore apart steel with your hands. How did you do that?"

"I work out," she said dryly, and I could just picture the smirk on her face. "But I can be so gentle when I need to be. I would be gentle with you. I want to feel how wet you are for me. I want to be soft and sweet while I slip my fingers inside you... I want to fight the urge to fuck you hard and fast, and go slow with you until you're begging me to release you."

I gasped in surprise, my breath caught in my throat as her words hit me right in the groin, making my thighs clench against the sudden flood between them. I got up and locked my office door, just in case I couldn't resist continuing this line of conversation.

"You locked the door," she whispered. "Are you wet for me?"

I wasn't going to answer that. I sat back down behind my desk, giving up on arguing against the truth of her words, but I wasn't gong to actively encourage her. She was still a suspect, and I was still a CSI on her case.

"I'm wet for you," she told me, and suddenly I believed her. I think it was the subtle change in the way her breaths came through the phone. Another pause, and then a low, amazingly soft groan. "I'm touching myself," she answered my unspoken question.

The room started to spin, and I slouched in my chair, once again clenching my thighs against a wave of arousal that surged through me. Why was she doing this to me? "What do you want from me?" I managed. "Do you want me to drop the case? Fine, consider it dropped." She affected me too strongly, I couldn't fight her. If she wanted the case closed, I'd close it. Just so I didn't have to go through the agony of another phone call like this. I wanted to touch myself, and I couldn't. I would never do that at work. And if I was honest with myself, it hurt that she was using me. Was this what suspects felt when I used my charms against them?

"Don't drop the case," she said, and her tone had gone from sensual to angry just like that. "I didn't do anything, and if I had, I wouldn't pretend I wanted to fuck you to get out of trouble."

I sat in stunned silence long after she'd slammed the phone down in my ear. What the fuck had just happened?