Fandom: CSI Rating: NC-17 Pairing: G/S Summary: Sara takes advantage. 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: general seventh season Thanks to Jeanniemac, Anamin, Poppie, and Dreams of Him, who all expressed enthusiasm.  *grin*  And Cincoflex, as ever, for reassurance!   ********* She woke to whimpering.    Sara came awake completely, as she usually did, rising from un- to consciousness in one smooth rush.  Behind her curled back was Grissom, and he was emitting the small and somewhat pitiful sounds.    She rolled over carefully--his arm was under her head--and blinked at him.  He lay on his back, his brow furrowed, obviously asleep, and Sara propped herself up on one elbow, reaching over to wake him from whatever nightmare he was caught in.    Then she noticed the slight, irregular hip thrusts.    Oh.  She couldn’t help smirking.  Dreaming he might be, but...I don’t think that’s a nightmare.   For a moment she just watched, feeling amused and tender both; Sara knew he had erotic dreams, same as she did, but she’d never actually gotten to witness the effects before.  Aftereffects, once or twice, sure; Grissom had been fairly embarrassed about the sticky sheets until she’d rolled her eyes and pointed out that it was natural, and wasn’t he lucky that she didn’t leave a mess too.    He’d been really embarrassed that one time it had been her hip, but hey, things happened.    Now she observed, and considered.  If Grissom had been sleeping on his stomach, she judged, the dream would have been over by now, but without more stimulation--    The idea was not just wicked, it was downright evil.    Sara didn’t hesitate.    She pulled back the blanket but left the sheet, afraid that a sudden wash of cool air would wake him, and ducked under.  The evidence presented itself, and she grinned in the cloth-muted light.  Yep, definitely a good dream.    She had been surprised, slightly, to discover that Grissom preferred to sleep in the buff.  He was so reserved in other areas that it almost seemed out of character, but she filed it in the same mental drawer as likes to go commando on his own time and left it.    After all, it wasn’t as though she didn’t have her own quirks, and she certainly could appreciate the view every morning, as it were.    Now, however, she had a much more close-up view.  Sara inhaled, savoring the unique scent of soap and musk and sleepy Grissom, the perfume that now meant home to her in a very private and visceral way.  Then she blew out the breath through pursed lips, slow and controlled.    Grissom twitched all over, and Sara stilled, waiting to see if she’d woken him, but he didn’t move.  So she settled herself more comfortably and indulged her whim--to give him an absolutely mindblowing dream.    His erection was a heavy thing; long, yes, but also thick, and their first few sessions of lovemaking had left Sara a little sore despite Grissom’s exquisite gentleness.  But muscles were made to be stretched, and certainly adapting had been a pleasure.    Now she leaned forward and circled the base with her fingers in a light grip, just enough so that she could angle him for a nice long lick along the underside, bottom to top.    When he was awake, the same gesture made him gasp, but this time the only response was a louder whimper and another twitch.  Sara grinned again.  Good.    Grissom’s flavor, sharp and salty, was on her tongue, and she took another taste, seeking out the vein under the soft skin and stroking the crisp hair beneath her fingers.  She absolutely loved doing this, loved making him helpless and incoherent, loved the fact that she could give him such intense pleasure and that he trusted her enough to let her do it.    I don’t suppose this exactly qualifies as informed consent, she admitted silently, feeling the heat rising from his skin.  But I don’t think he’d argue.    Shifting slightly, she curled her tongue around the head of his erection, then slid it into her mouth and suckled lightly.  This generally drove Grissom wild, and though he didn’t move now, she felt the pulse under her grip, already high, speed up.    I wonder what he’s dreaming.  Knowing that her opportunity could be limited, Sara lowered her head, taking as much of him into her mouth as she comfortably could.  She set up a slow bob, long pulls and the occasional lick, trying to keep the slurping noises to a minimum for fear of waking him.    It was fun.  It always was; Grissom seemed to regard her offers to go down on him as special, un-looked-for treats, an attitude she found slightly baffling if appealing, and in addition the sheer, intimate sexiness of the act--as performed on a beloved partner--was arousing to her.    Sara took her time, savoring the sensations of heat and firmness and the taste of salt, enjoying the increasing trembling in his muscles and the way his hands were moving in tiny, restricted groping motions.  REM sleep was keeping his muscles deactivated for the most part, but obviously she was having an effect.    She used the fingertips of her free hand to rub gently at the velvety skin over his testicles, feeling him sweating where her body was pressed against his.  His breathing was getting faster, and Sara increased the speed of her suckling, hoping that he would get all the way to climax without waking up.    Have to remember to ask him about his dreams--    Grissom made a strange noise that sounded like a moan with laryngitis, and came.  Sara leaned on his hips to keep his small, staccato thrusts from choking her and swallowed repeatedly, extremely pleased.  Gotcha!    His motions slowed, and stopped, and Sara let him slide free of her mouth and crawled out from under the sheet.  Grissom’s eyes were still closed, his face slack; he hadn’t woken.    Satisfied, Sara wiped her face with a corner of the sheet and rubbed her tired jaw muscles.  She waited a while to let him fall deeper asleep again, and then stood up to go find the mouthwash.    She took her time in the bathroom, pursing her lips at her reflection but not quite managing to get the smug look off her face, then returned to the bed, stifling a yawn.  Evening was still a ways off and she was starting to get sleepy again.    Settling back down, she pulled the blanket up over them both and let her arm find its place across Grissom’s chest.  He sighed in his sleep and edged closer, as though seeking her warmth, and Sara closed her eyes.    Her dreams were wonderful.  End. 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