Title: Neutral Territory
Author: CSIGeekFan
Pairing: Grissom/Sara
Challenge: csiprompts (April Showers)
Spoilers: Through GBaGL
Summary: Sara and Grissom meet on neutral territory after months apart.
A/N: No beta used on this - if there are errors, they're mine.

Looking up at the bleak sky, she said, "I realize it's spring, but I don't think I've ever seen it rain this much before." She'd been in Honolulu for two days, and she'd only had a one hour break from the pouring down rain – sometimes warm and soothing, but lately just plain cold. Grinning tightly, Sara muttered, "I really need to stop talking to myself," as she turned her back to the ocean and made her way across the sandy beach.

Holding her flip flops in one hand, she grabbed the towel she'd been laying upon before the sun was overshadowed by dark gray clouds. With a sigh, she made her way to the stone stairs, being pelted the whole time by fat and fast drops of cool rain. Taking the steps leading up to the walkway of the Ala Moana park, she headed in the general direction of the Waikiki Yacht Club at the edge of the road leading out of the park.

Slipping on her shoes, she stood over a small bridge and watched the fish travel to and fro. Smiling, she looked at the sky again, and closed her eyes, feeling the drops fall from the sky and wash away… everything. Not even Grissom knew how much she loved the feel of rain washing over her body – it's why she preferred showers to baths. There's something satisfying in allowing yourself to feel every drop, like a caress.

A gentle breeze brought in a chill that had goose bumps rising on her arms, and she shivered. For the umpteenth time, she checked her watch. Three more hours, she thought to herself, and had to tamp down the anticipation that warred with fear that coursed through her.

Yes, they'd talked. Frequently. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for minutes. Somewhere in there, they'd decided to meet someplace neutral – a place with no memories and no history. It turned out they'd both always dreamed of going to Hawaii. For Sara, it was a chance to lay out on the warm sand and absorb the heat, and maybe for once feel truly warm. For him, it was a chance to expand his entomological horizons.

Either way, they'd decided to stay away from Waikiki and opt for the more sedate Ala Moana area. Picking up her pace, as the rain fell faster, harder, and colder, she made her way past the yacht club, across Ala Moana Boulevard, and past the massive mall. Since it took a good ten minutes to reach her hotel, she felt her hair dripping, and her flip flops had become slick obstacles to walking.

Entering the hotel, the air conditioning that ran fairly constantly slammed against her wet body, and she began to shake. I need a hot shower, ran repeatedly through her mind as she awaited the elevator to take her to her room.

Her first order of business was to crank up the heat, which took a minute as the heater chugged – obviously using heat was not the norm in the tropics. Once she felt the furnace blast of hot air rush from the unit, she turned toward the bathroom. It didn't take long to slip off the shorts and bikini to immerse herself in the hottest water possible.

The shower done, Sara walked naked into the bedroom, rubbing at her wet curling hair. Checking the nightstand's clock, she noted the time once again and sighed. She still had hours. Just a short nap, she thought, the room now boiling hot. It felt good against her bare skin, and she laid out on top of the covers face down, letting her hair fan out around her. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift… back to that day. It was a Sunday.


She was standing outside his door, feeling nervous… although she didn't know why. After all, they'd been spending their free time together for a couple of months. They'd been to the movies, spent time just hanging out at her place before work, eaten quite a few meals together, and just… talked. Part of her calmed slightly at the thought of their 'make-out' sessions, and the look on his face when she'd told him that he was hot. He'd given her a raised brow look. They'd laughed together. A lot.

This was different, though. She was at his place, standing in the rare rain that pelted over the city and dimmed even the blaring lights of the strip.

Raising her hand to knock, the door opened before she even had the chance. For a moment, they stared at one another, until he gave her that boyish grin that made her stomach flip over. When he reached out, he glanced at the sky, took in her wet appearance, and pulled her inside.

"Hey," he said, glancing down at her hand, and then giving her a curious look.

"Since it's crappy outside, I thought maybe we could watch a movie," she stated, her hand trembling as she set the bag on the coffee table.

"Sit," he quietly ordered. She took the spot at the end of the couch, and watched as he sat next to her. Her trembling hand began to shake as she opened up the bag and took out her Lord of the Rings collection.

When he put his hand over hers, he leaned in and she could feel his breath whisper across her ear when he murmured, "I'd say don't be nervous, honey; but I know it wouldn't help. I'm nervous, too."

The feel of him so close had her shivering as she dropped the movies onto the coffee table and turned a fraction. They'd talked about this. Since the night before, as she'd laid on her bed, her phone in hand, and spoken to him about what she – they – wanted, she'd lived with a furling anticipation coursing through her. Every fiber in her thrummed, and she shook from it.

Picking up the first movie, he scooted away from her and popped it in the DVD player. Glancing at the boxes, he grinned. "You planned for a long day, huh? We've got over fourteen hours with the extended version."

She laughed at the comment, and finally spoke for the first time since arriving. Her voice was thick when she said, "Yeah. I'd hoped for a nice long day with you." He didn't know if it was the huskiness of her voice or the look in her eyes that had a surging need course through him. As the narration of the movie began, he scooted to the far end of the couch and held out a hand. Taking it, she scooted toward him, and they maneuvered themselves until his legs extended the length of the couch, and she lay on top of him. Nestled together, she felt… warm, protected… safe.

They'd laid in that general position until necessity forced them to stretch before muscles permanently compressed. Tilting her head up as she craned her neck, she felt his hand slide up through her hair to cup her cheek. She tasted him before ever opening her eyes. The touch of his lips against hers, the push of his tongue until she opened on a moan, and felt his other hand cupping her behind – pulling her up over him.

Feeling him strain against his slacks was nothing new, and Sara grinned into his lips, laying over him face to face. Every sound seemed louder – the beating of their hearts, the raspy short breaths, his almost inaudible moan when she rubbed against him. All of them blended together to drive the heat coursing through her into an inferno.

Sitting up, she pulled him with her, never losing the most basic connection of lips on lips. Fumbling and half stumbling, they managed to stand.

"Downstairs," he mumbled into her lips, and spun them around so he could back them down. She felt like she was gliding, the feel of his hands across her ribcage, the stroke of his tongue in her mouth. It wasn't a new sensation… the caresses and kisses. Yet they'd always held back, and she knew they wouldn't anymore. They'd talked about it – at first clinically, and then deeper in the conversation with short breaths and frantic words, as they'd stroked and touched themselves with a phone call.

Stumbling through the kitchen, Sara registered little with her eyes closed, blindly following him. His words from the previous night rang through her head, and she let out a gasp. She no longer trembled with nerves, but need.

The kiss finally broke as he sat on the edge of his bed and looked up at her.

His eyes held the question, and her nod gave permission. She'd always loved his hands. The rough calluses raked over her skin, and she choked back a whimper. With nimble fingers, he slid her shirt off over her head and tossed it aside. His lips found the soft spot at the base of her throat and this time, she couldn't hold back the sounds that flitted up and past her lips.

While he sucked and licked at the sensitive flesh, she reached out and yanked on his shirt, until she heard a chuckle. Tilting her head forward, she had to grin. All she'd managed to do was mangle his shirt. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he pulled her into a tight hug. Closing her eyes, he leaned against him and admired the feel of his cotton button-down shirt against her bare skin.

"Hey Gris? Think we can slow down a little?" she tentatively asked. While she generally didn't mind losing herself in what she felt with him, she wanted to savor their time together. It was a rare day they had off together, and she relished the thought of just being with him.

Clothing was slowly shed, tossed about the room. Gentle kisses and touches led the way to their destination, until neither was hesitant any longer. As she lay below him, feeling him slide into her, Sara arched on a gasp at the feeling of stretching within her that felt so deliciously painful. On his elbows, sheathing and unsheathing himself, Grissom groaned, when she stared deep into his eyes. Slowly he drove them, until he felt on the precipice.

When she closed her eyes and whispered, "You feel beautiful, Gil," he arched, thrust hard and deep, groaned her name, and emptied himself deep. When she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down, she felt him panting into her neck. Finally, she was able to pull the delicious weight of him onto her, so she felt nothing but his flesh against hers, and his hot breath on her.

Eventually, their hearts settled to a calmer beat and Grissom mumbled, "You said my name," into the pillow. Smiling, he turned his head and placed his lips next to her ear. "You called me Gil."

Grinning, she turned her head, so she could see the dark blue of his eyes calm to that cobalt she loved. "If I'd known saying your name could do that to you, I would've said it a long time ago," she murmured.

Rolling to his side, he pulled Sara with him. She sighed when he was no longer connected to her, and he ran a finger down her face.

"I didn't satisfy you," he murmured, worry in his eyes.

Laying a finger over his lips, she quietly stated, "You satisfied me in a way no man has ever been able to. I've never felt so… complete… until I felt you in me. Orgasm does not equal satisfaction." With a wicked grin on her face, she laid her lips over his and whispered, "Gil." Opening her mouth, she gave him entry.

As his tongue plunged, his hand moved across her body, sweeping her up in a storm. With his hands, he pushed and prodded at her flesh, eventually reaching down between her legs that she spread for him. In gentle concentration, he rose her up over the precipice until she gasped out his name over and over. When he felt the hand in his hair reach across his shoulder, he felt the bite of her nails as she cried out hard.

With a few more strokes of tongue and hand, he felt her come down from the high he'd given her, and she lay breathless beside him.

Eventually, she grinned at him and asked, "Do you feel better now that you've given me an orgasm?"

"Yes, dear," he replied, pulling her to him. They'd been given thirty six hours together, and made good use of it. Grissom knew that as a man he had physical limits, and was surprised when he'd been able to create that blessed physical connection with her four times. He spent their entire day and night bringing her pleasure repeatedly, fascinated at the expressions that would cross her face – from desperation to bliss. Over and over he brought her to the edge, and was rewarded with… her.


Sara moaned at the memory of his hand running across her back. The moan turned to a whimper as she remembered the feeling of his fingers. Writhing on the hotel bed, she turned over, only to find it wasn't a memory. Laying on the bed next to her, Grissom stroked his hand over her.

Reaching out, she touched his face with tentative fingertips. Her groggy mind couldn't seem to grasp that after so many months, he was there. Part of her was still gripped in the dream.

When she whispered, "Gil," he smiled. The haze finally lifting, she ran a hand down to his t-shirt and said, "Come to bed, baby."

Stripping down, they pulled back the covers and he lay over her, propped on his elbows. When she whispered, "Gil," again, he surged into her, and she arched her back. With slow, soft strokes, he used his hands and lips to complement the surging stretching within her.

After years of exploring her body, he knew her likes and dislikes. Writhing beneath him, she murmured words of love and longing, and he answered with his own. When he felt her convulse around him, Grissom drove harder until he emptied into her. As one, they floated down.

Together, they rolled, and began to doze, wrapped around each other… Grissom satisfied to know he'd brought her pleasure, and Sara happy to maintain that connection between them. She felt complete.

Her last thought as she drifted once again… He's still the only man who truly knows how to satisfy me. And she smiled with hope that tomorrow would be another rainy day.