THIS WAS WRITTEN TO THE SOUND OF JEFF BUCKLEY, SPECIFICALLY 'GRACE' AND 'LOVER, YOU SHOULD'VE COME OVER.' SEE IF YOU CAN SEE THE INFLUENCE. THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED, AND NOT JUST ON THIS FIC - THIS (AGAIN) IS FOR YOU, I GRATELY APPRECIATE YOUR SUPPORT.
Her bedroom was cool and light, at odds with the rest of the apartment. There were only two shelves in here, the top one stacked with books, the bottom home to four picture frames, taking Grissom on a visual time travel - Sara at birth, when she was ten, when she was twenty, when she was thirty. There was a small bedside table, a clock and the police scanner perched on it.
"I know, I still have that thing," she said shyly, seeing his gaze flick from the scanner to her. "It does come in useful. I figured you were wrong about me needing a life. I got one, and you weren't happy about it, and I wasn't all that happy about it ...". She trailed off, her mouth lifting into a shrug.
"I wasn't wrong, I ... I just neglected to tell you that maybe that life should have been with me." His eyes were sombre, and she knew he wasn't joking.
"Oh, shit," she murmured, overwhelmed by a sudden surge of emotion.
Grissom swiftly stepped up to her and pulled her gingerly into his arms. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he gushed into her ear. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You didn't," she replied, gathering her thoughts and her breath. "You just ... I wasn't expecting that," she admitted.
Grissom could see that her walls were down, and before she had a chance to compose herself properly, he dipped his head, and tenderly touched his lips to hers. "Were you expecting that?"
Sara bit back a laugh. "No, I wasn't." She returned his gesture, applying slightly more pressure than he had done.
Grissom sucked in his breath, pulling away. He regarded her as he might do a piece of evidence - something that demanded his whole and complete attention and dedication. He kissed her properly this time, his mouth openeing against hers. As she became more receptive to the kiss, he could taste the whiskey on her lips, the soft, sweet tang, and it was strangely arousing. "Is this what you want? Definitely?" The whisper was throaty, filled with passion, but also tinged with yearning and need.
Sara sensed his turmoil. "I want this," she replied, firmly but softly.
"Do you have anything ... anything I can use?" His cheeks reddened as Sara pulled away and inspected his expression.
Tenderly, she reached out and caressed his cheek. "No. But I'm using the contraceptive patch. We'll be safe," she said affirmatively. Catching Grissom's frown, she smiled. "Honestly, we'll be okay." To initiate contact again, she reached out, and with shaky hands, proceded to unbutton his shirt.
It was Grissom's turn to smile. "You okay?" he asked gently, his hands dropping to her waist. Sara's gaze followed the big paws, so soft and gentle, so protective. She remembered how safe they felt when he had comforted her time and again, what they felt like when he absent-mindedly touched the small of her back, as he so often did.
"Y-yeah," she croaked, eyes closing in reflection. Her hands steadied, and she pulled open his shirt to reveal a broad, hairless, muscled chest. She ran a hand over it, making him shudder, then smoothed the shirt from his shoulders, taking hold of his arms and pulling him to her, backing towards the bed. They kissed again, his gentle hands carefully relieving her of her clothes. "I never thought this would ever ...".
He considered her carefully, noting the brown hair spread out like a halo on the white duvet cover. "Yes?"
"Have you just done what I think you've done?"
He said nothing, simply smiling in response, going on to cover her body in kisses.
Grissom blinked several times when he awoke, adjusting his sight to the gentle rays of lights that were penetrating Sara's blinds. They fell on her, making her look like some divine, but equally sensual, bewitching angel. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, smiling to himself contentedly. He propped his hand under his head, the other one resting on the duvet where it covered Sara's hip.
Sara felt something on top of the covers, could instantly feel eyes boring into her face, her soul. "That you, Gil?" she yawned sleepily.
"No-one else it could be, honey," he replied. "You sleep well?" He shuffled closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body.
"Mmm, yeah," she answered, a sly grin permeating her features. She could smell him, his scent and musk gently invading her nostrils. "You?"
He nodded, the hand on her hip slipping around towards the back of her body. "I know you fantasised about other things, but did you ever dream about that?" He was genuinely curious, the question not appearing to be a way of serving his own ego.
Sara though for a moment. "To be honest, I was so horny most of the time, I never really thought about anything that loving and gentle," she answered frankly. "But if I had have considered that, I would never have dared hope. I wouldn't have wanted to be disappointed if I were wrong."
Grissom couldn't quite fathom her meaning. "I didn't disappoint you, did I?" He started to panic. He had so badly wanted to show her how he really felt, had ached so much to make her feel special.
She caught the anguish in his eyes and quelled it by lifting his hand from her bottom and kissing it, her lips caressing the warm, strong fingers. "I've never been made to feel so ...". She struggled to find words. "You made me feel like the only person in the world."
"You are the only person in the world. For me, at least." He reached out and touched her cheek, its rosy glow warming his fingers.
Sara blushed at his words. All the years he had dropped hints, flirted, shared close moments with her, her all the time thinking he maybe loved Catherine, or Terri. A realisation had hit her while they were making love - the reason he was so comfortable around other women, much more so than he ever was with her, was because he didn't feel anything for them. His feelings for them weren't threatening - but for Sara - even though he had been gentle with her, she could sense something, an inner rage, maybe just catharsis from all the years of sexual frustration, and she admired him for really not properly pinning her down to that bloody, icky bedsheet when she'd asked him, fucking her ruthlessly.
"What you thinking?" he asked, blue eyes twinkling.
"Wondering about your amazing restraint," she replied. She ran a hand through his mussed-up curls, noticing the colour of his eyes turning almost dark grey, or teal, when highlighted by his beard. Then she ran a hand over the scruff, making him shudder again. "I'm good at making you do that," she teased.
"Well, I can certainly name a few things I made you do last night," he countered, shocking both of them with his frankness. "So, after last night ... do you still think there's a future for us?"
"Hell, yes," she replied emphatically. "Besides, if I gave up a guy as good as you in bed, there'd have to be something wrong with me," she added.
Grissom smiled. "Aside from the sex, I mean," he explained. "Even though I know you're only teasing."
"Honestly? I want you even more than I did before."
"Good." His eyes lightened, sparkling more than ever. "And if you think you're the only one good at teasing, think again," he added in a sinister tone, turning on to his stomach and bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders.
"I look forward to it," Sara said, smiling.
"You won't be saying that later."
"You'll be begging me to stop," he growled, sending shivers through them both.