Happy Christmahanukwanzakah to all of ya. (And it’s not late since holidays included are just now going. Booyah.)

A/N to Blaspheme- Fucking eat me. Your problem with me is what, exactly? Out of every author and every story on this site, you have to come after me and mine? You really have nothing better to do with your time –no abortion clinics to picket in front of, no puppies to maim, no cripple children to poke fun at- other than to come onto this site, read my fiction, and flame me with your ignorance? If nothing else, that is reference to how sad the world is becoming. If you must continue with these sad commentaries, then leave my friends the hell out of it. Flame me all you damn well want, but you do not include my betas, friends, my readers and reviewers in them. Since you are too scared or whatever to sign in for those bashes, I can’t defend even my own self, so the fact that all of them are dragged into your disillusionment and hate is bull. Whatever it is that I did to you is completely beyond me, and since you still have yet to bring it up, until you do (and based on your reviews, it better be good when you decide to), I repeat- fucking eat me.

To the rest of you that are actually incredibly awesome- You know…even though I just love all of you to squishy bits pieces for your reviews so far…I’m just not really feeling the want for the porny-porn-porn-porn, you know? Not even for the kiss. Like, I know you kinda, maybe, possibly want it…but not that much…

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“Jeeee-zus!”

“Well, you know, if you would just sit the hell still, we wouldn’t be having these kinds of problems, now would we, Greg?”

“O-o-o-owww-o-ow-ow! Getitout!”

“I am not telling you again, Greg.”

“Catherine!” he groaned as he looked at her. “I know you and your strippery had something to do with this!”

She let out a disgusted sigh. “Greg, it’s a splinter. Get the hell over yourself.”

“Cut it off!” Nick laughed and tipped his beer for emphasis before taking a drink.

Greg’s eyes nearly shot out of his head. “Sara?! Sara, promise me you aren’t going to cut my finger off!”

“Though I’m pretty sure you could get through the rest of your mock-adult life without a pinky, Greg, I promise not to cut it off,” Sara said as she continued to prod at it with the tweezers. “Now hold still.”

“Ohh! I think it’s infected, Greggo!” Nick teased. “You know what an infection means!”

Sara scoffed, “It’s been in there for all of ten minutes, Nick.”

“You feel it, Greg?” Nick continued. “Building up in there? You’re losing time, man. Sara better hurry up.”

“Nicholas Stokes, I will take these tweezers and jam them so far up your scientific a-“

“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Grissom interrupted with an odd ‘my-pressure-has-just-been-relieved-due-to-my-unbelievable-imaginatory-skills’ smile.

Avoiding Grissom’s eyes, for she would surely pass out from laughter…or embarrassment…or lust, Sara answered, “We were all finishing up and Greg got a splinter from the mop handle. Death becomes him.”

“Obviously,” Grissom laughed.

Taking in the sight around him, Grissom was thrown. In the time he’d…spent downstairs, the rest of the team, even Warrick, had done a damn good job at nearly finishing up the cleaning job. All of the beer containers were gone, the stereo had been wiped clean, the pile of whatever that Ecklie had stepped in had been cleaned up.

“It looks great up here.”

“Thanks,” she said absently as finally pulled the sliver of wood from Greg’s little finger. “Got it! Go wash your hands, Greg.”

“How long did it take you all to finish it?” he asked, obviously not realizing how long he’d been downstairs.

“Not that long once I got everyone to stop horsing around and actually do some work,” Sara told him.

“Ah. Well, good job, all of you.”

“Question for you, Bugman. Do we have to stay around for Captain Gloss to show up, or can we just duck out now?”

“That’s an ignorant nickname, and you’re all staying. Everyone go pack,” Grissom ordered.

After everyone put away the cleaning supplies, they did as they were told and went to their rooms to prepare for leaving. But…

Catherine was pissed. Mighty pissed.

Sneaking into Greg’s, and then to Nick’s rooms so that Grissom and Sara would see her, she told them to meet her in Warrick’s room.

“Why does Warrick have lacy panties on his floor?” Greg asked, taking note of the purple pair by the bed.

Catherine’s face went pink and Warrick just told her they might as well stop trying to hide it already. “They know, Cath. Come on.”

“Fine!” she yelled. “We’ve been screwing each other’s brains out for a long time now! Happy?!”

Nick and Greg shrugged. “Whatever butters your muffin, Cath.”

“Anyway…look, Griss and Sara still haven’t even gotten a kiss in that we know of. That, that is not how this weekend is going to end if I have my way about things, you got me? Those two are going to go at it like sex is goddamn air, or I’ll personally kill every one of you.”

“Oookay. And we do this how?”

“Get your shit and get the hell off this boat,” she said. “Now.”

“Aye, aye,” they laughed and gave her the worst salute in the history of salutes.

Within ten minutes, Grissom and Sara were unknowingly alone on the yacht…boat…they were alone on the something.

Just a’packing away, Sara was humming to herself when she figured she would go ahead and gather up all of her toiletries next.

Walking into the bathroom, her humming stopped and her mouth went dry at the sight of Grissom bent over, searching determinedly through all of the bathroom drawers for something.

God bless whatever he’d lost.

Composing herself, Sara moved to the counter and began to pack up all of her things. All of what remained after Grissom’s thrash-about, anyway.

When she was nearly done, Grissom was still looking, so she asked what he was looking for.

“Sara, have you seen that glass thing I told you not to touch?”

“Oh, you mean that glass thing that, when you were talking about it, you said, ‘breathe on this and I’ll not only fire you, but I’ll throw you off this yacht.’”

“Yeah, that.”

“Of course,” she said, still packing.

“Well…?”

“What?”

“I can’t find it. Did you touch it?”

“Oh, well, yeah. You see, first, I breathed on it, next I licked it, and then I touched it, after that I grabbed it with both hands and threw it against the bathroom wall. Yeah, Grissom. Yeah, I did that.”

“Well, you don’t have to be so smart about it,” he chuckled.

“Whatever.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I think you broke it when you were thrashing around earlier.”

He sighed, “Damn it.”

“Well, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you already packed it.”

Giving her a doubting look, he snorted, “Yeah, because Luck’s just been real swell to me this weekend. Did you see that Warrick made good on his goal to puke in every closet on this thing? None of us noticed that, and now it hasn’t been cleaned up. You can still see faintly see ‘Frank’ through Greg’s fantastic paint job, too.”

Rolling her eyes, Sara made her way into Grissom’s room to look for it. The guy could be such a baby at times.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying, but not sounding offended at all. “That’s my stuff.”

“You weren’t going to look, so I am,” she explained. “I bet it’s right here.”

“I bet Greg took it. He’s been borrowing everyone’s things this weekend.”

“Grissom, no one even knows what half of your stuff is. I highly doubt Greg took your glass…whatever-it-is.”

Digging through the bag a little more, Sara let out an ‘aha!’ and turned to Grissom. In her hands was the item in question. “Told ya so.”

“Juvenile,” he laughed, took the item and put it back in the bag.

“Whine-ass,” she smirked and sat on the bed. “Ooh, yours is springy,” she said and bounced a little. “My bed was stiff.”

“I gave you the option to pick rooms, Sara.”

“Yeah, but at the time of the offer, I wanted to kick you in the head with cleats wrapped in barbed wire…so you can see why the offer didn’t really carry a lot of weight.”

Grissom moved his suitcase off the bed and sat next to her. “Sara, I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I am probably the biggest socially inept fool you’ll ever find…next to, say, a dead guy. But I’m going to try. As soon as we get away from this revolting boat, I’m going to try harder with you than I’ve ever tried for anything in my life.”

‘Suck on that, Whorebag McBitchface!’ Sara thought. She blinked a few times, then smiled. “Um…okay, well…I was just trying to make you laugh right then…but, yeah.”

And he did laugh at that.

She joined him and classic tension filled the room.

“Sara?”

“Hmm?”

“Why haven’t we been interrupted yet? We’ve been alone for a good twenty minutes now, we’re maybe four inches apart...so, where is everyone?”

Peeking around his head to look out of a porthole, Sara took quick notice of the fact that there was one car left out the original four that had brought them all there. “Nothing like a good conspiracy to get you through the day.”

Grissom turned and looked, muttered something about murder, and turned back to Sara.

“Sara?”

“How terribly cursed do you think the word ‘kiss’ is for us?”

“To the point that if you say it again, Baldy McGee will most likely show up, interrupt whatever you’re hoping is about to happen, whatever better be about to happen, I’ll cry, kill Baldy, make you help me cover the murder up, then we’ll have to figure out how to get this thing out of the lake and into the ocean so we can drive it to Mexico and live happily ever after.”

“That cursed, huh?” he asked, leaning into her as she leaned back.

“Yeah,” she said. “Griss, we’re, uh…we’re not even sure everyone really is gone.”

“Sure enough.”

Sara’s head hit his pillow and she was officially out of room to run.

Just as he began to turn his head that little bit to make kissing her possible…

He stopped.

“Grissom? Wh- what? What are you doing? What the hell? Oh, God,” she groaned and threw her head back into his pillows. “Don’t tell me you just decided you’re gay.”

“No,” he laughed. “You have a point-The last, like, eight times we’ve tried to do this, we’ve been interrupted. I’m just giving anyone and everyone the opportunity to piss me off now. Just give it a minute. Conspiracy against us or not, I’m sure someone forgot something and they’ve got to come back for it.”

“Um…okay.” She smiled nervously and waited a minute. When no one showed up, she said, “Well, I don’t think anyone is going to interrupt.”

Not trusting just that one auspicious minute (because, seriously, why the fuck should he), Grissom waited another two. And for the first time that weekend, Sara was proven to be completely right.

Nothing happened.

No one yelled downstairs.

No one called to say that something once delicious was now ablaze.

No bald idiots showed up to ruin the fun.

Nothing at all. So, he smiled, turned his head the rest of the way…and ki-

“Ow.”

Though he was genuinely concerned, Grissom’s “What?” did come out with a little edge to it as he pulled back from their ‘more-than-near-but-still-not-a-real-kiss’ kiss.

“You hit my nose,” she said, giving said part a little rub.

He sighed loudly. “Sara, this is past ridiculous.”

“I know. I know, really. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” he asked, surprised. “I’m the one that bashed your nose into your face in the first place.”

“True.”

He gave her an unbelieving look and she burst out laughing.

“I’m kidding,” she said with a schoolgirl giggle. “Turn your head more and get the hell down here already!”

That being more of an invitation than he’d ever needed then, he did as he was told.

His lips pressed to hers. Grissom was almost hasty about it, and it started as one of those I’m-fifteen-with-braces, sloppy kisses. Sara let herself follow his lead and went with it, but the feel of him looming over her with his mouth pressed to hers, it was too much.

Sara’s hands roamed up his arms, across his shoulders, and down his torso. When Grissom let out the moan he had been concealing, Sara made her move. Her mouth opened and her tongue darted into his. He was somewhat surprised by her action, but the cloud of lust was quickly descending upon them. Grissom complied and as she explored his mouth, and he returned the favor.

Her hands were on a mission of their own: Operation Remove Clothing. Sara was quick to undo the button on his jeans and slide the zipper down. Then she moved up his back, under his shirt.

“Aren’t we going a little fast?” he huffed, nearly out of breath.

Sara began working his shirt off. “If we stop now, sure as shit someone will interrupt.”

Grissom knew they were going too fast, and that they needed to slow down, but he was under the same spell she was.

Sara could feel his need and desire for her press into her leg. She could smell the musk dripping from him, and it caused a tightening in her stomach that she had never felt before. The feel of Grissom on top of her, hard for her, was almost too much, and she involuntarily let out a deep moan of her own.

When he stood up, both of them gasped for air as if it was their first breath of life. Grissom finished pulling his shirt from his body, his chest heaving from the rush of adrenaline. Sara watched him, her own breaths ragged. Grissom went to the top of her jeans, quickly divesting her of them.

Following instinct, Sara closed her legs once her jeans were removed. Grissom gave her a sly smile and moved over her once again. This time they made short work of her shirt, leaving her lying before him in nothing but a lacy blue bra and panties.

Grissom sighed at the sight before him. “My God, you are beautiful.”

Sara never broke eye contact with him as she sat up before him. He froze as she slowly and carefully slid the remainder of his clothes down his body. His erection stood at attention and she couldn’t help but reach out and take it in her gentle grasp.

He gasped, and his body tightened.

She slid her hand down the shaft, and instantly the tip began to ooze. With a smile, Sara leaned over and gently blew her warm breath across the head.

Grissom sucked in a deep breath and held it.

Sara could feel him watching her, but she wasn’t going to stop what she was doing now that she finally had what she wanted right in front of her. Her mouth opened and slid painfully slow over the tip.

The air he was holding in his chest was burning in him, but the feel of Sara’s mouth on him was like a cool fall breeze. Grissom finally let the breath out, and his hands went to her back, caressing the silky skin. He found the clasp to her bra and in one swift move, unlatched it.

He continued to watch as her head bobbed on him several more times before it became too much. Grissom took a step back and held her with his hands. “Stop.” His voice was low and desperate.

Sara smiled back up at him, when suddenly he morphed right before her eyes. His eyes turned a deep sea blue, and his pupils were as black as coal. He swiftly dipped down capturing her lips once again, only this time he was fierce and demanding like a man on the verge of losing control.

Grissom pushed her back onto the bed, his mouth devouring hers, his hands making short work of the thin lace and ripped them from her body before making the trek back up to grab hold of a breast. Sara wanted to gasp, but his mouth prevented it. She still managed to give a slight buck and press into him.

His mouth tore away from hers and found her neck. Grissom raked his teeth along the pulsing vein, his tongue leaving a wet trail of passion, until he found the waiting nub he had worked up between his fingers.

Sara’s body was in overdrive, there were too many sensations and feelings pulsing through her to decipher what was caused by what. But the feel of his sucking, nipping, and worshiping her body was a high she knew wasn’t caused by any drug. “Oh, God, fuck me now!” Her head was thrown back into the pillow, her mouth agape, and her breathing was staggered. She couldn’t nor didn’t want to stop the moans escaping her throat.

As he devoured her nipples, Grissom let his hand slip south and graze her junction. The instant his hand made contact, Sara’s legs fell open to him. His fingers caressed her sex and he skillfully slipped one finger inside her. In the instant he penetrated, the wetness he encountered was mind blowing to him. He had done this to her, and now, he needed to finish her. “Mmmm, with pleasure.”

Grissom broke away from her chest and quickly moved into position between her thighs. Sara’s eyes opened and she watch as he placed himself at her opening, not entering, just waiting. He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms. Knowing what was coming, her arms went to his shoulders. He looked into her eyes as his hips began to push forward. Sara sucked in her bottom lip as he began to stretch her muscles. Grissom continued pushing, his teeth gritted as he watched Sara beneath him. He knew he was causing her some discomfort, but also pleasure at the same time.

Sara’s hands gripped onto him and her nails dug into his skin until he was fully sheathed by her body. “Yes…God, yes…”

He stopped briefly before pulling nearly all the way out and slowly entering her once again. She relaxed more on the second entry. “What do you want?”

She opened her eyes, her hands gripping him harder. “I don’t want to walk straight for a week.”

Grissom smiled. “That can be arranged.”

He took in a lung full of air, pulled nearly all the way out, and thrust forward. His hips slammed into hers as he began his assault on her body. Sara continued to cling to him as his movements were pushing her up on the pillow. Her mouth fell open, instantly dry, as she moaned, groaned, and withered beneath him.

“Fuck yesssssss…” she hissed as he pounded into her.

Grissom’s mind was racing as he watched Sara beneath him as he fucked her. And that’s what it was; it wasn’t making love, it was primal. His body fiercely and repeatedly slammed into hers. The perspiration on their bodies making the friction minimal between their skin. He attempted to remain silent, but with the feel of the one woman he had been wanting under him, taking him deep, Grissom gritted his teeth and let a deep guttural groan escape.

“Goddamn, the things you do to me, woman.”

Sara couldn’t open her eyes, but hearing him talk like that, this was a whole new Grissom, and she loved him. “Harder…harder…mmmm…good…good…so good. Fuck!”

He knew it wouldn’t take long to reach the point of climax, but when that peak came, they were both ready. Grissom slowed his pace slightly and changed the angle of entry. Sara’s eyes slammed shut and she escalated from moans to incoherent words. He was pushing as deep into her as she would allow, and every time he reached the deepest point, Sara would let out what sounded like a word.

Her body teetered on the point, he could feel her, and as he slammed into her again, he leaned down and bit her neck. Sara’s body tensed and Grissom picked up the strenuous pace again while holding onto her neck. Her fingers raked across his back in an attempt to hold on, but the sweat was preventing her from getting a grip. Her body shook with adrenaline and ecstasy, squeezing him with all of her might.

As she tightened around him, Grissom released his hold on her neck and with one more hard thrust into her, released himself. Every muscle in his body became paralyzed, and he stopped deep in her as his seed pulsed into her.

Sara’s body remained ridged as her high slowly wore off; Grissom practically collapsed on her from the exhaustion. He moved off of her slightly so that they were facing each other. Their breaths were still ragged, their bodies exhausted as if they had run a marathon.

“That…was amazing.”

“Yeah!”

“I think I like conspiracies,” Grissom laughed.

“I certainly have no problem with them.” Moving from the bed to collect their clothes, Sara winced and said, “Damn, I said a week, Griss, not a month.”

He shrugged, “Overachiever, sorry.”

Unable to get her own smartass comment out before they both heard footsteps on the deck above, Sara looked at Grissom and worriedly said, “We’ll talk about getting you a trophy later. Hurry up!”

Clothes were thrown on in the most haphazard fashion. Button holes were missed, zippers forgotten, hair in royal need of brushing, but neither cared because…

“What are you two still doing here?”

“Hey, Bal-Ecklie…what’s, uh, what’s going on? Huh?”

“Why are you two still on my yacht? And why’s it so…musky in here?” he asked as he sniffed the air.

“No clue what you’re talking about,” Grissom said as he slid his shoe on. “But,” he said, “I do feel like I should warn you, dearest Conrad, that your closets…have surprises in them.”

Grabbing his suitcase up, Grissom went quickly with Sara after hers while Ecklie watched on in question.

“What?! What the hell’s in my closets?! Gil? GIL?!” Ecklie yelled after them. “What the hell is in my closets?! And who the hell is Frank?! GIL!?”

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And that’s how we earn that M rating. Massive thanks to TDCSI's filthy mind for writing all that yummy stuff up because we all know it sure as hell wasn’t going to be me that did it.

So…now that you all got what you wanted, you all have to give me what I want- Reviews. Lots and lots of them. And lots more on top of that.

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