The final installment of the story. Enjoy!
Sara lay in their bed, waiting for Grissom to finish up in the bathroom. She was wearing nothing under the covers, neither of them did when they were in bed. More comfortable, Grissom had reasoned. Nope, just easier for us to ... came Sara's retort, and she had gotten great pleasure in seeing the red flush that tinged Grissom's neck. After all this time, he was still shy, still modest, still polite. But damn, was he good in bed. And well-hung. She giggled at the thought, noting the irony of it as Grissom turned off the bathroom light and appraoched the bed, stark naked.
"Hey," he said, sliding in next to her.
She turned on her side and slipped her hand across his broad chest, allowing to drape over his hip. "Hey," she smiled back. She waited for him get comfortable, which meant him propping up his head on his left hand and stroking her body with his right hand. "I hear you got interrogated by those with an insatiable thirst for gossip," she murmured, feeling his fingers still.
"Sara, sweetie, it's bad enough Catherine has to ask me about our sex-life, I don't think I really want her ghost floating about in our bedroom." He resumed his stroking, the rough flesh of his fingers at odds with her soft skin.
"Her ghost, or Greg's," Sara agreed. She supressed a smirk when she saw his eyes widen. "Yup, he asked, too."
Grissom's voice shook, the worry and anxiety genuine. "What did you say?"
Her hand squeezed his hip in comfort. "Don't worry, honey, I told him you were good. Out of interest, what did you tell Catherine?"
"That it was none of her business," he said truthfully.
"Should I have toed the party line?" she inquired, all of a sudden concerned that she had perhaps revealed too much to Greg.
It was Grissom's turn to supress a smirk, but it didn't work very well. "Nah. Wouldn't be very magnanimous of me if I made you do everything I told you."
"From what I recall, the only time you obey me is when I ask for you to be harder." That satisfied her, seeing that crimson tide invade his cheeks. "Being a bit less polite isn't going to kill you," she told him.
"Maybe not," Grissom conceded. "But I don't really want to go into that now."
"So, what else did Cath ask you?" Sara was genuienly interested to see how Gil had reacted to his friend's prying. Another friend, such as Jim, or even a protege like Warrick, would have just accepted things as they were, patted Grissom on the shoulder and said a hearty well done. Not Catherine - she needed to know every little detail, and for some reason, as Sara thought about this, she became slightly angry.
He noted the change in her expression and caressed her jaw. "You okay?" he asked softly, leaning forward and nuzzling her nose with his. "What's up?"
"It justs annoys me, that's all. Why does Catherine need to know? Will it kill her if she isn't privy to our relationship."
Grissom's shrug was truly magnanimous. "Sara, honey, she probably does have some right to know. She was the one who pushed me to send that plant." Oh, that was such thw rong thing to say.
"So they were from her? Not you?"
Grissom considered the dangers of being completely honest, and then decided to take a shot in the dark. "It was after the wound tract episode. Y'know, when you reminded me you were a vegetarian?" Sara nodded cautiously. "Well, as was customary back then, Catherine came back to mine after the case, and being typical Catherine, she gave me a little insight into the whole dynamic of office relationships and the like. Told me I needed to pull my head out of the microscope, regard the human emotions around me, that sort of thing. So I decided to get you a plant. Show you that I was thinking of you."
"So it was more of an indirect influence? Thank God for that," she sighed, relieved.
"Honey, I'm just a bit dense when it comes to people. You just have to be patient."
Sara smiled and kissed him languidly. "Mmmm," she moaned. "I don't mind being patient when I get to taste that," she enthused, closing the gap between them.
Grissom's big, gentle hands cupped her. "See, I wish I hadn't taken my time. If I'd have kissed you before we were together, I would have been finding it very hard to resist the urge to jump you at work," he whispered.
"Really. You have no idea how often I thought about doing it. When you'd come and stand in my door-frame, all I could do was push away thoughts of closing the blinds and shutting the door and scooping you up and doing you right there on the desk, or up against a wall," he muttered, breathing becoming rather laboured.
His words sent sparks through her spine and triggered a longing between her thighs. "I'm not the only one, then," she sighed.
"I really hope you didn't tell Greg any of this," Grissom murmured, voice trapped between his teeth and Sara's shoulder. He kissed her gently, savouring her flesh and her taste.
"Why would I do that?" Sara asked, mock-offended that she would contemplate such a thing. "The only person I tell my fantasies to is you. Unfortunately," she added as he raised his head and looked at her hopefully, "I have no new ones. Sorry. But you shall be the first, and only, person to know as soon as a new one pops up."
"Good," he growled. "Now can we please leave talk of our friends out of this conversation. I don't particularly want thoughts of them whilst we ...". He trailed off and grinned suggestively.
"Oh, fair enough. Have your evil way with me, dastardly bugman," Sara intoned, doing her best to affect the nuance of a medieval maiden.
"Oh, I will. And don't count on the Prince Charming side of my personality popping up and rescuing you."
"I shall look forward to his non-appearance."