Fandom:
CSI
Pairing: G/S
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Another post-ep for "Snakes".
Disclaimer: The characters and situations in this story belong to
Alliance Atlantis, CBS, Anthony Zuicker and other entities, and I do
not have permission to borrow them. No infringement is intended in any
way, and this story is not for profit. Any errors are mine, all mine,
no you can't have any.
Spoilers: through "Snakes".
Note: Second chapter written mostly because people suggested it. See
what happens when you send me feedback? *grin*
*********
Grissom had often--more than
often--wondered what it would be like to kiss Sara, but his imaginings
had certainly not stopped at mere kisses, though the touch of her lips
on his was the most frequent fantasy of the lot. He'd woken from many a
half-dream of her pressed against him, all warm skin and wicked smile,
to find himself sheet-tangled and aroused; he'd seen her in labcoats,
in jumpsuits, even in a bulky coat and watchcap, and rather guiltily
peeled them from her mentally, imagining different blurry lingerie
depending on his mood. He'd gone as far as admitting to himself that it
would be--fun--to simply lift her off her feet, carry her into the
storage closet, and lock the door behind them, this last being a
favorite when he was short-tempered from frustration or he'd seen her
laughing with Archie or Greg.
Of course, those were dream-Saras, willing and uninhibited, mere
shadows of the real woman; Sara as he knew her was mysterious, prickly,
and vastly more interesting than his lust-generated images. And while
he knew she could be adventurous, until this moment he'd never been
quite certain that she would want to be adventurous with him in
particular.
Well, he had his answer now. The funny thing about it, however, was
that in all his visions of her--ranging from the first time he'd heard
her laugh to his peeved imaginings of her with her paramedic boyfriend
or the faceless Ken Fuller--he had never, ever, imagined the two of
them sharing a cadaver drawer.
Nor had he imagined this moment; the awkward in-between times were not
the stuff of fantasy. Grissom tapped his fingers on his steering wheel,
looking up at Sara's apartment building and hesitating.
It wasn't that he didn't want this. In fact, most of him was shouting
at him to get out of the car and hurry upstairs before Sara changed her
mind. But that was just it--this was all so fast.
Sara said she wanted him, but what if she regretted it later? Grissom
didn't think he could bear it if she thought he was taking advantage of
her.
It had all been so sudden, the two of them sharing gentle kisses on the
cold metal when only minutes before they had been coolly separate; and
then Sara's lips had parted beneath his, and the moment had gone from
bliss to blaze in a heartbeat.
Incredible.
That had been the only thought in his mind, and a dim thought it had
been, beneath the roar of a passion that had startled him with its
ferocity. For pity's sake, he'd gone for years on end without this kind
of urgency, but with Sara exploring his mouth, Sara tugging his shirt
out of his pants, Sara making a delighted noise as his hand slid
beneath her blouse, he couldn't think clearly at all.
And then she'd suggested closing the drawer again if he was shy. The
idea was silly but shockingly tempting, all those hormones in an
enclosed space, and it it brought him back to reality. If at last he
was going to get to make love to Sara, he wasn't going to make it a
hasty event at the lab.
So here he sat, uncertain, doubt and cold rationality having entered
the car somewhere between the lab and her place. And he wondered if
maybe she had changed her mind, that he'd get upstairs and it would be
all awkwardness--maybe she would say the whole thing had been a mistake
from start to finish--
His phone rang.
Grissom blinked, and opened it, too distracted to check the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Having second thoughts?" Her voice was low, husky, and slightly
amused, and it had an instant, arousing effect on him. He smiled a
little.
"No...but maybe you should be."
Her sigh was exaggerated. "Grissom, would you just get your ass up here
and let me jump you? I mean, if you think the lab would be a problem,
imagine what it'll be like if you make me come down and join you in the
car."
He knew she was kidding. He knew
it. But the image it generated--Sara straddling his lap, arms around
his neck, the very idea--he released his seatbelt as it became a little
too confining.
"I'll be right up." He shut off the phone on her chuckle, thought for a
second, and tossed it into the glove compartment. They were both off
the clock, and would be for almost twelve more hours.
Grissom looked up as he shut the car door, and spotted Sara in her
window. She was still holding her phone, and she waved, and then
vanished.
He tugged down his jacket, rather ineffectually trying to shield
himself, and headed inside.
Her door opened as he reached it, and one long arm grabbed his sleeve
and pulled him inside. Grissom heard the door close again, but his arms
were already full of Sara, and he wasn't paying attention to anything
but the flavor of her mouth and the feel of her body against his. For
one so lean and fit, she was soft, soft...
He couldn't get enough of running his hands down her shoulders and
spine, over her ass and back up again. Stroking. Feeling that living
warmth under his palms and not having to stop.
Meanwhile, Sara's hands were busy between them, first pushing his
jacket off and then unbuttoning his shirt. When she reached his skin,
he gasped against her mouth and pulled up. "Sara, wait."
Her hair was ruffled and her lips were slightly swollen, but that
didn't impede her glare at all. "No way." And her hand slid from his
chest to his groin in a light press that made him hiss.
He caught her wrist. Panic flared in her eyes, and it finally dawned on
him. Grissom took her other wrist as well, feeling the tension there.
"Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart." He leaned in and
pressed a softer kiss to her mouth, struggling to rein in his
eagerness.
Sara frowned, and then the tension melted away, and she sighed, bending
her head to rest it on his shoulder. Grissom gathered her close,
relaxing as the tenderness returned.
"Sorry," she said, her voice slightly muffled by his shirt collar. "I
keep being afraid you're going to tell me this is a mistake."
Grissom laughed a little, and rubbed his nose against her hair. "Funny.
That's what I keep thinking about you."
She chuckled, a surprisingly deep sound. "Huh. Well."
Sara was nearly his height--a fact that Grissom considered an advantage
in his fantasies because it put her lips almost level with his--but she
felt light-boned against him, fragile even though he knew she wasn't.
It stirred, he noted, both his hormones and his protective instincts.
But as her long hands moved from his chest to his waist and she kissed
the skin below his ear, the hormones won out.
"If this isn't a mistake," she murmured, in between more kisses along
the edge of his beard, "can we get on with it?"
Grissom's eyes slid shut, and he felt his breathing roughen. "Can we go
slower?" One hand was on the firmness of her ass, one on the nape of
her neck, both squeezing gently.
"Mmm, sure." Her lips were at the corner of his mouth, and she wasn't
going any further. Maddening. He held her head still and opened her
sweet mouth with his, some part of him moved to possess, but from the
way she was kissing him back it felt like the possession was pretty
mutual.
This time he slid both hands under her shirt, the better to pull it off
and away, and she shook the hair out of her eyes while he stared and
committed the vision before him to memory. The analytical part of his
mind--the part that wasn’t getting a whole lot of processor
speed at the moment--noted the black satin bra with lace edging. The
rest of him was lost in the contrast of her skin against the fabric,
and the fact that her breasts were just the right size for his hands.
Sara made an amused sound and unlatched the bra’s front,
shrugging out of the straps and letting the garment fall. Grissom
reached out and ran one slightly trembling finger down the space
between her breasts, and then lifted both hands and checked the fit.
Velvet. She was velvet against his palms, her nipples hardening swiftly
at his touch, and Grissom leaned forward again to kiss her, wanting
more, greed overtaking him. He let his fingers explore as Sara nipped
gently at his lower lip, and then her grip went from his waist around
to his rear to pull him into her.
For a moment they rocked together, distracted by sensation, but then
Sara backed up a step to push his shirt off his shoulders, and Grissom
had to let her go to get it off his arms. She went for his belt next,
but he shook his head. “Slower, remember?” he said,
surprised to find his voice a bit hoarse.
Sara pursed her lips in mild rebellion, but Grissom went with impulse
and went to his knees in front of her, taking hold of her hips for
balance and rubbing his face against her satiny belly. She moaned and
grabbed his shoulders, and he smiled, taking in the faintly spicy scent
of her. “Tickles?”
“Noooo...” Her tone was half-threatening,
half-pleading, and Grissom indulged himself and began kissing his way
across her stomach, feeling it ripple under his lips. Slowly, he
straightened his spine, moving up to her breasts, loving the press of
them against his cheeks and their smoothness, and the exclamation that
escaped her when he suckled gently on one hard nipple.
Her hands were in his hair now, stroking, making his scalp tingle, and
he slid his fingers under the waistband of her slacks and tugged. They
slid down more easily than he expected, and as he sat back on his heels
he was amused to see that her underwear--high-cut bikini panties in a
deep green--didn’t match her bra.
Sara grumbled at his grin as she kicked out of the pants, but a smile
was tugging at the corners of her mouth, and Grissom took a moment to
simply admire her slender grace. She had no tan lines, per se; her long
arms and legs bore a hint of color, but it faded into creamy pale skin
everywhere else.
“Stand up.” Sara bent to grab his hands, and he
blinked at what this did to her chest, but she tugged him to his feet
and let him go to take a step back. Her fingers flexed as she stared at
him, and Grissom cocked his head, puzzled and suddenly a little-self
conscious.
“What?” He’d been so concentrated on her
that he hadn’t really thought about the fact that Sara would
be seeing him with no clothes on. But before he could start worrying,
she licked her lips, and the slow, lascivious movement chased away his
incipient fear.
“Damn, I wish I had a camera handy,” Sara said, and
the thought made him choke. “You do not know how often
I’ve wished I could see this.”
Grissom shook his head, astonished and delighted and absolutely burning
for her. “You have low standards,” he mumbled, and
she grinned and reached for his belt buckle.
“They’re about to get a whole lot
higher.”
He lost some of his patience shortly after that, when he stepped out of
his slacks and boxers and watched with amazement as Sara ran her hands,
cool and soft, slowly over his chest to his stomach and lower. Her grip
around him was light and exploratory and tantalizing, but it was also
almost too much, and he brushed her hands away. “Not
now,” he said in a strained voice. “Maybe
later.”
And her grin went as wicked as any he’d dreamed.
He’d made her let him go, but Sara almost didn’t
care as Grissom bent his head and started tasting the skin of her
throat. She shuddered at the delicious prickle, and moved her hands to
his back instead to begin exploring the hot wide surface, the
surprising smoothness of it. Meanwhile, she could feel his thumbs
hooking over the elastic of her panties, and when he’d worked
them down far enough she wriggled to make them fall to her feet.
He felt so good,
so solid in her arms, and she kept realizing with delight that it was
real, that she and Grissom were together at last...and were about to
get even more together.
His lips were on her shoulder now, and she moved so she could breathe
in his ear and get his attention. “Are we done
with--slow?!”
The last word came out on a squeak, because Grissom’s wide
hand had moved down from her ass and curled around between her thighs,
and obviously the man’s touch for evidence was replicated in
other areas of his life, because all of a sudden her knees were having
trouble supporting her.
Sara could feel his smile against her skin. “Nope,”
he said thoughtfully.
She snickered, she couldn’t help it, but she had to tighten
her hold on him to keep her balance as his explorations moved deeper.
“Bed, now,” she stated.
Grissom laid her down on the comforter with infinite care, and Sara
started to tremble as she realized again that this was real,
not a product of her own daydreams. His jaw shifted as he looked down
at her, and in the old synchronicity--how odd to use it in this
situation--she knew what he was thinking before he could ask. Reaching
up, she touched his face gently, because she could.
“I’m on the Pill.”
He nodded, and she thought that she’d never seen his eyes so
dark. “Come here,” she added, barely more than a
whisper.
Grissom stretched out beside her, and she rolled until they were
pressed together, and started kissing him again. Oh the glory of it;
heat and firm muscle, and the groan that escaped him as she rubbed
against his larger body. She couldn’t help doing it, again
and again, and those big hands, just slightly rough, were sliding with
increasing speed down her side to cup a breast, over her hip to her ass
to pull her closer. Sara let her legs tangle with his--the hair on his
made shivers shoot up her spine--and then he turned them without taking
his mouth from hers.
For a second he stilled over her, and her alarm returned.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she whispered
against his cheek, and his beard brushed her lips as he shook his head
slightly.
“Sara--“ His voice was barely audible, and she felt
his hand between them, and then he was pushing slowly inside her. She
sucked in a breath and arched against him, because while it hurt a
little he also felt incredibly good, and he grunted and slid deeper.
Sara tightened her arms around him, feeling his skin slickening with
sweat, and turned her head to meet his gaze. And saw there what she
already knew--that they were done hiding from each other. “No
more slow,” she said, with solemn delight, and his eyes
crinkled.
“No more slow,” he agreed, and took her mouth
again. Sara hooked her legs around his hips, and pulled him closer.
It was familiar and new at the same time, the pulses of pleasure, the
nip of teeth, the way thought would trail off into pure feeling; at
last she could kiss his ear, grip his oft-admired ass, gasp his name
even as he was mumbling hers. She twisted against him, felt him
shudder, tasted the sweat that was running down his face, and realized
dimly that she was pleading for him not to stop.
He didn’t. They didn’t, not until after she had
lost both her breath and her mind in the unbearable rush, not until he
cried out against her neck, not until her spasms and his jerks had
faded and they were both limp and dizzy and panting.
They didn’t seem to need words, after that. Only closeness,
as he rolled them both over. Only the lazy slide of his hand down her
back, the way her hair stuck to his damp chest; Sara knew that
eventually they would have to get up, shower, eat, but it
didn’t matter.
They had each other, at last. And that was enough.
End.
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