Images
By Midnight Caller
Disclaimer: Suing me = bad.
Summary: Perhaps I'm too lazy to write a full, cohesive story. Oh, well, no skin off my back. I just have several images of Grissom and Sara that I wanted to get down on paper; I can't be bothered with an actual storyline.
Rating: R
Feedback: All comment-writers get a cookie, except if they ask, "Where are they?" "When are they?" or "Did you purposely forget to include a plot?" There is no beginning, no end, and certainly no middle, and I'm well aware of this.
Archive: Just tell me where.
**
Images - I
Grissom touched me. More than a brush of his fingers or an accidental collision of limbs -- he really, truly touched me. And his hand is still there, lingering on my cheek, guiding my eyes to his. So I open myself and take him in, drowning in the eyes looking back at me. I've never seen his blues as bright, or as welcoming, and their penetrating stare shoots down my spine along with the sensation of his fingers stroking my skin.
My lids close of their own volition, and all that remains in the darkness is the slow caress of skin on skin, the electricity produced by the union of just the right combination of nerve endings.
His thumb gently slides across my chin, and then moves upward to trace the outline of my lips. My mouth opens involuntarily, acting on pure instinct, and somehow my tongue slides out just enough to touch his thumb.
I'm breathing heavily now, I can hear it, and I know he can see the arousal on my face. To steady myself I blindly reach up and place my hand over his. I love how warm he is. With my eyes still shut I survey his body with my hand, gliding it over his own, and then down to his wrist and forearm, savoring the tautness of tendons and muscles under the soft skin. His arm shudders slightly as I do this, and in response, he firmly presses his thumb farther into my mouth. I gladly receive it, releasing a quiet moan as I gently suck on his finger.
And now I smell the scent of him as he presses against my body. Another hand embraces the back of my head, gently squeezing my hair. I feel warmth on my cheek -- his breath -- and he grazes the skin of his face against mine as he moves his mouth to my ear. I can hardly contain myself. His breath on my lobe is enough to make me quiver, and the tingling begins. Starting at the source, at my ear, it moves to my neck, and then crawls down my spine like an electrified spider. It lands, finally, at my center, igniting a dormant fire that begins to spread throughout my body.
My blush intensifies as I suddenly feel his teeth on my ear, and my breath is ragged, broken. I take his finger further into my mouth, and he bites my earlobe, sucking on it between his teeth.
His body presses against me, pushing me against the counter. All at once his hands are on my waist, pulling me up until I'm sitting on the counter surface, and then just as quickly his fingers return to my mouth and my hair. He steps closer and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him to me.
Now it's my turn to enfold my hands around his head, wrapping my fingers around the soft curls as he continues to fervently suckle on my earlobe. I gasp when he abandons my ear for the skin of my neck, nibbling until he reaches the hollow where it meets my collarbone. Just his breath alone against my skin is enough to send another surge of fire through my limbs. But then his tongue is on me and at this point my brain is so besieged by pleasure I'm not even sure I could say my own name.
He does it for me. "Sara…" he breathes against my skin, and I pull his head closer and wrap my legs tighter. My eyes are still closed when I feel his breath on my lips, and I don't need to see the look in his eyes to know what's coming.
He barely touches my lips with his, and then kisses around my mouth, on my chin, my cheeks, my eyelids. And then he finally covers my mouth with his own and I inhale his warmth and moisture. His tongue lightly grazes my lip as I open myself, and then he uses it to search, explore, and penetrate. I suddenly want him to know everything, every inch of me, and I open wider. He takes my cue and plunges into my mouth, rubbing his tongue against my own as he probes deeper.
I think I surprise us both when I take his tongue between my teeth and suck it deep into my mouth. His body leans forward into mine, and my thighs involuntarily squeeze around his waist. Now my hands wrap around him, anywhere, just to pull him closer. I feel his hands roaming through my tresses, and I love the feel of him, on my skin, in my mouth, in my hair.
And now I can't even tell where I end and he begins. We are the synthesis of two bodies that long to become one, and I want every part of him against me, touching me. We've forgone technique for passion as our mouths mash together violently, sucking, seeking, biting. I refuse to let his lips leave mine, and he seems ready to oblige.
He slips his hands under my shirt and runs his fingers up my back. My skin reacts, trembling slightly. His tender touch becomes more physical, squeezing my back, pulling me to his chest. My hands finally leave his hair to roam freely down his back, stopping along the way to admire his shoulder blades. I stop at the top of his pants, and then slide my hands down to squeeze his ass.
This is the first time we've broken the kiss since it began, and our lips part only slightly as he gasps my name. I take this moment to look at him, at the sated eyes, his lips throbbing from our contact, and I don't think I've ever wanted anyone more in my whole life. All my nerves are ultra- sensitive, and every time he touches me I feel my body begging for more attention. For a brief moment I just try and convince myself that this is actually happening.
Our mouths can't stand the separation any longer and they collide again, fueled by the anticipation of events to come. The heat between our bodies is almost blistering, yet I want to tear off his shirt and press my skin to his, feel his heat against mine. Our kiss is less chaotic this time, and we fall into the rhythm of our mouths moving in perfect synchronization.
I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of sadness as I realize that this moment will eventually pass, and I don't ever want it to stop. I want to remember everything: Grissom's taste, his heat, his hands, how he feels pressed against me.
The sadness passes as I realize that for this instant, time has in fact stopped. There is no end to this; we are in a perpetual state of creation. Our bodies, our minds, and the emotions that bind those together have fused to create the most perfect moment in time.
And so my mind lets go of everything, and we move and flow together in that perfect moment, leaving the rest of the world so far behind I can't even remember what day it is. I've never felt so … free. So … unbound.
By Midnight Caller
Disclaimer: Suing me = bad.
Summary: Perhaps I'm too lazy to write a full, cohesive story. Oh, well, no skin off my back. I just have several images of Grissom and Sara that I wanted to get down on paper; I can't be bothered with an actual storyline.
Rating: R
Feedback: All comment-writers get a cookie, except if they ask, "Where are they?" "When are they?" or "Did you purposely forget to include a plot?" There is no beginning, no end, and certainly no middle, and I'm well aware of this.
Archive: Just tell me where.
**
Images - I
Grissom touched me. More than a brush of his fingers or an accidental collision of limbs -- he really, truly touched me. And his hand is still there, lingering on my cheek, guiding my eyes to his. So I open myself and take him in, drowning in the eyes looking back at me. I've never seen his blues as bright, or as welcoming, and their penetrating stare shoots down my spine along with the sensation of his fingers stroking my skin.
My lids close of their own volition, and all that remains in the darkness is the slow caress of skin on skin, the electricity produced by the union of just the right combination of nerve endings.
His thumb gently slides across my chin, and then moves upward to trace the outline of my lips. My mouth opens involuntarily, acting on pure instinct, and somehow my tongue slides out just enough to touch his thumb.
I'm breathing heavily now, I can hear it, and I know he can see the arousal on my face. To steady myself I blindly reach up and place my hand over his. I love how warm he is. With my eyes still shut I survey his body with my hand, gliding it over his own, and then down to his wrist and forearm, savoring the tautness of tendons and muscles under the soft skin. His arm shudders slightly as I do this, and in response, he firmly presses his thumb farther into my mouth. I gladly receive it, releasing a quiet moan as I gently suck on his finger.
And now I smell the scent of him as he presses against my body. Another hand embraces the back of my head, gently squeezing my hair. I feel warmth on my cheek -- his breath -- and he grazes the skin of his face against mine as he moves his mouth to my ear. I can hardly contain myself. His breath on my lobe is enough to make me quiver, and the tingling begins. Starting at the source, at my ear, it moves to my neck, and then crawls down my spine like an electrified spider. It lands, finally, at my center, igniting a dormant fire that begins to spread throughout my body.
My blush intensifies as I suddenly feel his teeth on my ear, and my breath is ragged, broken. I take his finger further into my mouth, and he bites my earlobe, sucking on it between his teeth.
His body presses against me, pushing me against the counter. All at once his hands are on my waist, pulling me up until I'm sitting on the counter surface, and then just as quickly his fingers return to my mouth and my hair. He steps closer and I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him to me.
Now it's my turn to enfold my hands around his head, wrapping my fingers around the soft curls as he continues to fervently suckle on my earlobe. I gasp when he abandons my ear for the skin of my neck, nibbling until he reaches the hollow where it meets my collarbone. Just his breath alone against my skin is enough to send another surge of fire through my limbs. But then his tongue is on me and at this point my brain is so besieged by pleasure I'm not even sure I could say my own name.
He does it for me. "Sara…" he breathes against my skin, and I pull his head closer and wrap my legs tighter. My eyes are still closed when I feel his breath on my lips, and I don't need to see the look in his eyes to know what's coming.
He barely touches my lips with his, and then kisses around my mouth, on my chin, my cheeks, my eyelids. And then he finally covers my mouth with his own and I inhale his warmth and moisture. His tongue lightly grazes my lip as I open myself, and then he uses it to search, explore, and penetrate. I suddenly want him to know everything, every inch of me, and I open wider. He takes my cue and plunges into my mouth, rubbing his tongue against my own as he probes deeper.
I think I surprise us both when I take his tongue between my teeth and suck it deep into my mouth. His body leans forward into mine, and my thighs involuntarily squeeze around his waist. Now my hands wrap around him, anywhere, just to pull him closer. I feel his hands roaming through my tresses, and I love the feel of him, on my skin, in my mouth, in my hair.
And now I can't even tell where I end and he begins. We are the synthesis of two bodies that long to become one, and I want every part of him against me, touching me. We've forgone technique for passion as our mouths mash together violently, sucking, seeking, biting. I refuse to let his lips leave mine, and he seems ready to oblige.
He slips his hands under my shirt and runs his fingers up my back. My skin reacts, trembling slightly. His tender touch becomes more physical, squeezing my back, pulling me to his chest. My hands finally leave his hair to roam freely down his back, stopping along the way to admire his shoulder blades. I stop at the top of his pants, and then slide my hands down to squeeze his ass.
This is the first time we've broken the kiss since it began, and our lips part only slightly as he gasps my name. I take this moment to look at him, at the sated eyes, his lips throbbing from our contact, and I don't think I've ever wanted anyone more in my whole life. All my nerves are ultra- sensitive, and every time he touches me I feel my body begging for more attention. For a brief moment I just try and convince myself that this is actually happening.
Our mouths can't stand the separation any longer and they collide again, fueled by the anticipation of events to come. The heat between our bodies is almost blistering, yet I want to tear off his shirt and press my skin to his, feel his heat against mine. Our kiss is less chaotic this time, and we fall into the rhythm of our mouths moving in perfect synchronization.
I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of sadness as I realize that this moment will eventually pass, and I don't ever want it to stop. I want to remember everything: Grissom's taste, his heat, his hands, how he feels pressed against me.
The sadness passes as I realize that for this instant, time has in fact stopped. There is no end to this; we are in a perpetual state of creation. Our bodies, our minds, and the emotions that bind those together have fused to create the most perfect moment in time.
And so my mind lets go of everything, and we move and flow together in that perfect moment, leaving the rest of the world so far behind I can't even remember what day it is. I've never felt so … free. So … unbound.