Catherine walked towards Gil's office, her mind set on settling things between them, sorting out their feelings once and for all. She quickened her steps and stepped into his office, observing him fiddle with a few files, trying to shove them into his briefcase. She walked up right behind him, feeling his energy surround her.

Back turned, Gil didn't hear her come in, but a strange sense of serenity invaded his body, and he pressed his lips together trying to intercept the content that was surfacing; despite the contradicting momentary feelings, his heart ached for her and he knew that his smile would be lost in the folds of blinding pain. He finished packing his folders and snapped his briefcase shut, turning to make ends meet with his destination.


Gil took a deep breath, closing his eyes calmly, trying to play off his surprise. "How long have you been standing there?"

His voice was low, raspy and short of breath - an observation that made Catherine's insides buzz. She didn't understand her reaction to this man but she knew she could no longer fight him off. Eyebrow raised, she decided to take chance's leap, risk's fall and destiny's taunt. "We need to talk."

Gil set his briefcase meticulously on the desk, emanating a manneurism that could only be deemed 'Grissomesque'. "Oh, is it that time already?" He asked, more hurt with his indifference then her reaction.

She watched his left hand, beautiful - an artist's instrument, as it rested on top of his briefcase. Her eyes roamed to his other hand, where tension ran abound: balled up in a tight fist. Her eyes hopped to his, imploring him to listen, and she chanced a contact - taking his fist in both her hands in a desired attempt to rid his riddled tension. She guided him to his couch, leaving briefly to swing the door closed. Reaching him, she searched his eyes, ever darkening by the moment. "Why, Gil?" It was small, void of confidence.

He glanced up from his floored gaze, meeting her eyes with a certain surprise directed towards her vulnerability. "Catherine..." Whispered with sincerity, his brow crumpled with a hint of fear.

She knelt down in front of him, her hands desperation for his evident by her firm grip. "Didn't you feel it?" She paused, searching the ceiling for an answer. "Haven't you always felt it?"

No answer broke, but affirmation grew in his eyes, and was complemented by a faint pressure given from his turn-tabled hold on her.

"So why?" Unshed tears glistened from the bland ceiling lights.

He finally found his voice, but chose to keep it coccooned in his throat. Silence dared not shy away, waiting out the development as much as both the bodies in the dimmed office. "I was afraid," A deep sigh allowed his next thought to travel, "still am."

Catherine shook her head, resting her forehead against his knee. "I'm so tired, Gil..." She continued to speak to the floor, "so tired of flitting around our feelings." She got up, and took a seat beside him. "It felt so good." She couldn't deny the honesty in her mind, heart nor soul. She reached up to cup his face, and retracted her hand at the minute close-eyed flinch she felt.

Her eyes dropped to her lap, a "sorry" tumbling out in hush.

Gil wet his drying lips and took her hand in his, guiding it to his cheek where conflicting motives had just been displayed. "I've been independant my whole life, Cath." He placed a feather kiss on her wrist. "I'm afraid of not being able to let go..." His words were barely audible, but somehow found their way to her awaiting ears.

Catherine glanced up, confused by his confession. "What?" Her tone matched his whispered level and she leaned in slightly, conveying a desire to understand...and a hope to be loved.

He dared his hand to travel to her strawberry curls, and his hand accepted without consequence. His fingers sighed peacefully in her silkiness, and he allowed his thumb to travel, stroking her just underneath her earlobe. A morose smile paved way for his acceptance of his trust in her, and more importantly of hers in him. "Everyday, I see you, and my eyes crave more. Everyday I get a gentle caress of your aroma, and my nose demands more. Everyday I get the opportunity to hear you laugh, to feel you care... and my soul dies for more." He paused, his eyes unable to meet hers. "It's getting harder to fight my addiction, Catherine." He glanced at her, his voice hoping that a fool was not in the making.

"Then don't fight it..." She pleaded with him. "You need me as much as I need you..." She began to reason, but stopped short, a small smile spreading across her lips as she interpreted his handsome blues.

She straddled his waist - a position she soon began to love, and nipped at his lower lip, feeling her tummy flip as she incited moans deep within him. She let out an evil grin as she slid off his lap and on to the floor. Letting her hands dance near his belt buckle, she teasingly opened it, popping the button and pulling the fly down.

"God Cath..." He exhaled, her being and memories forcing uncontrollable responses from his lower regions. He bucked wildly as her fingers grazed his length, prominent through his boxers. He raised his hips as he felt her tug at his boxers, and felt them glide down his legs, pooling along with his pants, near his ankles. Skin on skin never denied him pleasure, especially when heat was offered by a certain strawberry-blond, his co-worker, his best friend... his lover.

Staring him straight in the eye, she massaged him with her palm, her fingers caressing him to ecstacy. She watched him tilt his head back and smiled; she was in need of release herself, but all that mattered was him - his happiness, his desires ... his love. She bent down, ready to take him into her mouth when the door suddenly flung open.

"Hey Grissom, I need you to sign this form -" Sara glanced up from the sheet she was holding, and stopped short, hand still on the door knob. Eyes wide, she let them drift towards her supervisor's manhood and rested her gaze there, mouth ajar.

Gil stuttered slightly, looking around for something to cover him up with. "I - ... uh..." He bent down, and grabbed Catherine by the waist, pulling her on to his lap.

Catherine crossed her legs - prim and proper - smiling a little too innocently.


Without a word, eyes still aching to pop out of their sockets, Sara turned and exited, closing the door behind her, her hand still bonded to the door. She stared straight ahead, eyes slightly glazed over.


Catherine rolled her hips, a moan exhaled as she felt his hardness against her buttocks. She felt his arms snake around her waist, and allowed herself to be pulled back into his embrace. Resting the back of her head on his shoulder, a small smile blossomed upon feeling his lips caress her right temple. They sat, fused together for several silenced moments, comfort playing a key role when Gil finally began to slip his hands underneath her shirt. He traced abstract circles around her bellybutton and slowly slid on hand downwards. He thumbed the button of her slacks, gently undoing it.

"Gil. . ." She panted his name, arching her back into his touch. She tilted her head back, her lips seeking the skin of his neck where upon she tried to quench her thirst for him; however, his being fueled her lust and she nipped at his neck, branding him.

He stopped short of reaching his desired destination, allowing his hand to merely rest on her pelvis. A hidden grin hinted, feeling her move against his hand. A curious laugh interrupted the silence, "I can't believe Sara saw..." he paused, trying to find a term to best suit what had just happened, "--me--." He grimaced, trying to hide his blush.

"How will you be able to look her in the eye now?" She asked, referring to the embarassing event that had just transpired.

Gil grinned, nuzzling her neck. "I won't have to - I only have eyes for you, Cath." He felt her sigh a little and brought a hand up to her face. Tilting her cheek, he gazed into her eyes, wanting to convey his love to her. "Catherine... you are my heart."

Catherine smiled, her lips seeking his. "Love you too, Gil." She mumbled against his deepened kiss. While still under his lipped command, Catherine rid herself of her pants and underwear, and sat on the couch, pulling Gil on top of her.


Nick and Greg were strolling by, when they spotted the brunette standing outside their supervisor's office. They paused and glanced at eachother. "Hey Sair..." Nick began.

Sara held up her hand. "Shut up - visualizing."

Nick and Greg shared a look and continued on their way, both trying to ignore the lust-drenched moans that were coming from the supervisor's office. Greg glanced back at her a second later, a meloncholic grin on his face. "I'm guessing that's about all she'll be able to do."