TITLE: A Hand To Hold
AUTHOR(S): MSCSIFANGSR and JellybeanChiChi
PAIRING: Sidle-Grissom
RATING: Mature
SUMMARY: Holding hands with Sara became his new preoccupation.
DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them.
NOTES: MS: This is the last time, I promise. No more first time GSR fics. Jellybean: I only wrote one scene in this story, and she gave me a byline. Is she great or what? Seriously, this is MSCSIFANGSR's baby.
WARNING: There will be smut at the end of this story. Jellybean: Thankfully, she didn't let me write that!
SPOILERS: Occurs sometime after Season 5 and in early season 6; you know, when we all thought it started.
PROMPT: This is a very late entry for the December 2008's 1hour2write Pic Challenge. This story is modeled off of picture #21 and you can find the link to the challenges in my profile.
They were sitting together in the break room when it happened for the third time.
It had happened before, but the pure randomness of the situation shocked Sara down to the tips of her toes. He reached for her hand and clasped it with his own. For no apparent reason.
The two prior times, it had meant something: his support at a very trying time in her life. First, sitting in the waiting room at the police station when he'd come to pick her up after she'd been picked up for DUI and the second time, when she'd finally told him about the her childhood and the murder of her father at the hands of her mother.
Sara was startled this third time because she wasn't emotionally bereft; she was just sitting in the break room drinking coffee. And while he casually gripped her hand, her own muscles tensed as she tried to figure out what exactly he was doing.
She looked at this man as he held her hand. He might have appeared nonchalant, but his enlarged irises gave him away.
Yet, he continued to hold her hand and she held it back, just because it was there.
Grissom kept a tight grip when she tired to pull away when David Hodges and Archie Johnson entered the room arguing the different merits of captains of the Starship Enterprise.
"I'm telling you man, Captain Jean-Luc Picard was pound for pound the best," Archie said as he poured coffee from the pot into his mug.
"No, James Tiberius Kirk," Hodges retorted, with a very poor William Shatner imitation, with his head tilted to the left as he snatched the coffee pot from Archie's grasp.
The two took no notice of Grissom sitting at the table with a rare shit-eating grin on his face or Sara sitting so rigid she could have easily been mistaken for a dead body in full rigor mortis. Grissom shifted their hands under the hard, plastic table and hid their intimate connection from the two men. They might be in the top percentile of U.S. lab techs in their respective fields, but they had no clue as Grissom took the opportunity to run his thumb into her palm then began making tight concentric circles.
The moment was erotic, filled with a tense surrealism. The gestured left Sara overwhelmed. The sensations from his touch wreaked havoc on her central nervous system.
"But if Kirk had never been the captain, then my vote would have to go to Christopher Pike." Archie said as the the two techs left the break room. The idle chatter that had filled the break room was replaced by a elegant sigh that escaped Sara's lips.
The sigh was so loud, Grissom wondered if Sara made that sound when she achieved an orgasm. The thickening of his penis was a pleasant phenomenon not usually experienced while at work, but for some reason, this moment didn't feel very work-related. He shifted their hands higher on his thigh because he wanted Sara to feel what this meant moment to him.
As the back of her hand brushed his erection, Sara jerked her hand away, she felt like she'd touched fire. She took a deep breath and stated, unequivocally, "I'm going back to the evidence room to work on the Clark case."
Grissom looked around the room nervously to see if anyone was near. Sara practically sprinted to the doorway, she stopped her in her tracks when she heard his slightly deepened voice.
"And I'm going to my office to see what I can do about this erection," Grissom said. "You can join me if you like…"
The words weigh heavily on her psyche, but her expression was one of complete befuddlement. She turned and ran out the door toward the evidence room.
Grissom stood up, adjusted his heavy erection and somehow made his way to his office without embarrassment.
Sara avoided Grissom like the plague for the next several days until the entire shift pulled a triple shift together. Three dead, decomposing bodies were found on top of the administration building of WLVU.
It appeared the deceased where three reported missing students who had inadvertently gotten a bad batch of crystal meth. Each had died of over-dose from the poisonous drug, and it had taken the crew twenty-four hours to track down their identities, locate possible sources of the meth, find dealers, and the LVMPD locating family members. How or why the three students managed to get to the roof of the building had never been ascertained.
A short time before their next shift would begin, the six members of the night-shift sat together at a big, circular table at their familiar diner.
They were all tired from lack of sleep, and coming down from the adrenaline rush of finding the manufacturer of the bad meth. Catherine drank her coffee while sitting between Nick and Greg. Warrick had stepped away from his seat to have a conversation with a policeman at a nearby table. Sara was flanked by Warrick's empty seat and Grissom on her right.
Sara listened intently to one of Nick's stories about the courtship of his mother and father, when it happened again. Grissom reached under the table and held her hand.
Sara used a napkin to wipe her mouth one-handed then placed her hand back in her lap. She laughed at something Nick said and at Greg's smart-ass remark that followed, and tried not to think about the fact that Grissom held her hand in front of their whole team.
Sara was thankful that none of their friends and co-workers noticed his indiscretion.
They sat there for several moments before Grissom began working their clasped hands to the juncture of Sara's legs. Sara blushed, thankfully at the same moment Greg made another smart-ass remark.
Grissom could feel Sara's pulse racing; she was a bit breathless; and the throb of her nearness left him wanting her.
His hand laid not so innocently near her core. It felt like a bomb, ticking, slowly, tantalizingly and heavy with a promise Sara was unsure Grissom was be able to fulfill.
Warrick returned to the table several minutes later, but Grissom did not remove his hand as their fingers were laced together on her upper thigh. Nor did he remove his hand when Catherine began teasing him about a woman he had dated several times before Sara had joined the night-shift.
"Charlotte did an excellent job in the trace lab," he conceded.
Greg's eyes bugged out of his head. He hadn't known about the two dating.
"You?!" He pointed an accusing finger at Grissom. "You're the one who carried her to the 'Wizard of Oz' show that was synced with "The Wall" by Pink Floyd at the Mirage?"
Grissom smiled lamely at Greg, who rocked up and down in his chair laughing. "I always wondered who it was, but she wouldn't tell me. But I can tell you now, dude, she was not happy with you at all."
Grissom looked uncomfortable, but still didn't let go of Sara's hand, concealed underneath their table, "Why, Greg?"
"Man, she wanted something more from you, a whole lot more, if you know what I mean," he winked suggestively toward everyone at the table. "But she knew you didn't know how to give it. She told me all about it, just without names. She kept saying stuff like 'He's a lot like Grissom', I shouldna known."
"Yeah, she told me too," Catherine added. "Grissom took her out three times, but never completed the deal." She looked straight into his eyes, "Gil, you never even tried to kiss her."
Grissom coughed, covering his mouth with his free hand. He didn't notice Sara's reaction to the gossip circulating between the friends, and neither did anyone else, because they were all looking at Grissom. Her face was becoming flushed and Sara felt her anger rising to a boiling point.
"Griss, man, you need to do better," Warrick laughed "Three strikes, man you're out."
Sara let go of his hand and pushed his hand away. She was visibly upset.
This was something Greg did notice. "What's wrong Sara?"
She knew she should have held her tongue, but she just couldn't, not after all they'd been through lately. Sara's DUI and subsequent suspension, then Nick's abduction and the team coming back together. She and Grissom had almost achieved their lost friendship over the last few months and now, the team was talking about him and another woman. It chapped her ass. She turned her attention to Grissom. "You?" Her tone was incredulous and angry. "You dated a co-worker? When was this?"
Grissom's world view narrowed to only include Sara's brown eyes. Neither of them noticed their colleagues' looks and uplifted brows. Warrick coughed. Nick looked away at the waitress' nice figure. Catherine and Greg both stared back and forth between Grissom and Sara wondering who would explode first.
When Grissom didn't reply, Catherine took pity on her friend and answered for him. "Just before you started working here, Sara. It was when Brass was our supervisor and Brass wasn't as friendly toward us as he is now."
"Amen," Warrick interjected.
Grissom finally found his voice, but the volume was barely above a whisper, "I wasn't her supervisor, Sara." He hoped Sara would understand the significance of his statement.
"Brass was a son of a bitch back then." Warrick continued, "I mean, he rode me like I was his horse. Nick, he loved. Nick could do no wrong."
Nick blushed, "I did wrong many times, he just reamed me out in private as compared to your public humiliations. Why do you think I still make him coffee when he pops in the break room? Old habits die hard."
Warrick laughed, as the two continued their back-and-forth bickering. While Catherine and Greg would offer their two cents, Grissom and Sara kept quiet.
Until Grissom ended the subject with three, succinct sentences, while he looked her directly in the eye.
"Sara, things were different before you started working with us, but you became the icing on an already good group of investigators. You made all of us better. We wouldn't be the second best crime lab in the country if it weren't for you."
Everyone at the table grinned at the unexpected compliment from their boss. Sara looked relieved. The tense moment between the two of them was averted.
Catherine nudged Greg with her elbow, "Let's see how good of a boss we have." She reached over him and grabbed five plastic coffee stirrers. "Nick, let me use your knife for a minute."
Nick dug it out of his pocket and handed it over to her without thought.
"Grissom, we've all worked 24 hours straight and are scheduled to work another eight-hour shift starting in…" she looked at her watch, "fifteen minutes. We're all tired, and none of us have the day off. All our current cases are closed, so there is no reason of all of us to work."
The crew caught on quickly to Catherine's idea. "I suggest you let two people off tonight and the other four will cover. Whoever works can call in the other two if needed, but I'm thinking we're going to have a slow shift tonight. You game?" She looked into Grissom's cyan eyes and challenged her old friend.
He grinned in response. He knew if he were tired, the rest of them were too. "As long as I get to pick first."
The guys collectively cheered, 'Ye-haw'; 'Hot damn' and 'Yesss!'.
When Grissom stood up, he used Sara's shoulder as his prop. He let his hand linger there long after he should have removed it, and Sara felt captivated by his touch. He reached over the table to pick one of the offered sticks.
Catherine pulled them away from his reach and clarified the rules of the game, "The two people who draw the short ends don't have to work tonight, but are on call. Deal?"
Grissom's hand gently squeezed Sara's shoulder, "Deal."
Slivers of delight ran through-out her body.
He then proceeded to pick one of the shorter ones from Catherine's grasp, much to everyone's chagrin. Grissom sat back down into his chair, but allowed his hand to glide down Sara's arm. He felt her shiver beneath his touch. When his hand reached hers, he clasped it quickly then let it go.
Greg jumped up. "I'm next." He pulled a full-length stick out. "Shit!" he muttered under his breath.
"I'm next." Nick pulled. Long stick. He grimaced and sat back down.
"Warrick, go for it."
Catherine offered and he studied the remaining sticks. He couldn't tell from the way she was holding them which was the shortest, so he picked the one in the middle, drawing it out slowly, millimeter by millimeter until it was obvious to all that he chosen a long one. He sat down dejectedly.
"Come on Sara, choose. It's between us girls," Catherine shoved the remaining sticks in Sara's direction.
"It's okay, Catherine. You win. I'd rather work."
"Come on, Sara, you got a 50 percent chance of doing that anyway. Draw. Don't be a spoilsport." Nick said as he looked at a somewhat panicked Sara.
"I'd really rather work," but as those words left her mouth, she stood. This time she used Grissom's shoulder as a prop as he had previously done with her shoulder and reached over the table and drew out the remaining short stick.
Grissom tired to hide his smirk as he thought about the two of them having the next 24 hours off. And a few of those thoughts were of a libidinous, bedroom-facilitated nature.
Catherine held the last stick in her hand and she looked toward her fellow "long stick" colleagues. "Come on guys, I'm in charge tonight. Let's get to work."
They all headed for the door and Catherine took the opportunity to lean into Grissom, "Gil, since you and Sara won the night off, you two can split the check for all of us."
She smiled, slipped the check into his hand and quickly left the restaurant without looking back for comments.
Grissom wanted to touch Sara once more as their team filed out the main door to the diner, so he gripped her shoulder lightly and let his touch graze down the outer portion of her arm, again. Her exposed skin felt so soft beneath his fingers.
He knew he had crossed the deeply entrenched line the two had drawn years before, and there was no chance for any sort of retreat on his part.
So they sat together quietly for several minutes. Sara finished her coffee and Grissom basked in Sara's proximity. After Nick's kidnapping, he had finally decided he would actively pursue Sara. He had been trying to gain her attention, and wasn't sure if she was still interested. She'd run from his last attempt when he tried to show her his feelings with the oddly intimate gesture of holding hands.
He wished he had only held her hand then. The comment he made before she left the break room had sounded like he was nothing but a lecherous old man.
Truth be told, he had been flabbergasted he admitted her brief brush against his crotch sparked his erection. And he became humiliated he invited her to his office to help relieve himself. While he did indeed go back to his office, jerk off into a handkerchief and then place his "evidence" in the garbage, he had no right to ask her to participate.
What was he thinking? It was later, while he sat in his lonely, sterile townhouse, that he evaluated and overanalzyed his invitation to Sara. His conclusion had made him feel ashamed and utterly disappointed. And as an bonus, he knew there was now the strong possibility Sara would bring about sexual harassment charges against him.
And that scared the shit out of him. But not because of the workplace ramifications, but because he would have again ruined his chances with Sara. His intentions were never to spur an improvement of her working conditions or to gain better assignments. His intentions were not based on a boss/subordinate relationship.
He simply wanted Sara Sidle, the woman, to know that Gil Grissom, the man, revered and desired her.
But now Grissom's attentions focused on Sara as she sipped on her now cold coffee. She usually took quick, small sips when her beverage was scalding hot, but Grissom knew she hadn't had a top-off or a refill since well before Catherine's "get out of work free" game.
"Are you nervous to be alone with me?" His voice sounded weary, defeated. He noticed she had scooted her chair away from his when the others had left.
"Lately, I have been," she admitted.
"Am I scaring you?"
"No."
"Why are you pulling away from me when I touch you?" He looked her in the eye and saw her confusion.
"Grissom, why are you touching me? Is that really appropriate?" She finally broached the subject of sexual harassment.
"I thought you wanted 'this.'" He said as he gestured the universal "quote marks" with his index and forefinger.
She looked at him incredulously, then grabbed her purse from beneath the table. She pulled out a twenty, threw it on the table, "Here's my half of the tab. If I owe you more on the bill, then you can let me know tomorrow night at work. I'm outta here."
She left the diner, leaving him alone at the table with a very sour expression on his face.
This was not how he imagined the evening ending after the two of them had drawn the winning sticks.
Gilbert Grissom decided then and there, the next move would be hers. He wasn't playing games with her. He wanted her to be in life away from the work setting. He was serious about a relationship with her and she need to tell him if that is what she wanted too.
But after a month, Grissom realized she wasn't going to make a move.
She'd been extremely professional at work. She quickly solved complex cases solo. The guys begged Grissom to let them partner with her because so boost their personal case solve rate. But Grissom didn't pay anyone any favors. He paired Sara with whomever the case's talents required.
He still desperately wanted to pair himself with her in much more personal matters, but she did not appear to be of the same mind. It was too late, he admonished himself frequently while trying to sleep.
It was not vindictiveness that prompted Sara to distance herself from Grissom's recent overtures. It was self-preservation.
She'd never lost interest in the man but she had give up on him. Especially after his arrival at her apartment after her suspension. She wanted more from him then, but he'd been his 'boss-ly' self and kept strictly professional. While his efforts saved her job, nothing remained between them other than work, but Grissom was attempting to be friendlier. Sara wasn't really sure what had happened, but she blamed herself for everything that had passed between them -- good or bad.
So Sara moved on, not with another man but with her life... well, her work. But deep down in her heart she bottled her feelings for him and inside that bottle there remained the fantasy of a love so true nothing could come between them. She never thought it could become a realty, but it remained in her heart as a sanctuary she could go when she needed it.
Rather than accepting the possibility that Grissom carried true feelings for her, she rationalized every overture. When she let her guard down and revealed some of her closely defended secrets, she believed his acceptance and interest was nothing but pity upon the poor little girl that she had been. If he attempted to relieve tension between them at work, she took it again as sympathy for her plight. And she never wanted a relationship with him brought about by pity.
Even when Adam Trent held a shard of pottery against her carotid artery and Sara could see Grissom's horrified expression on the other side of the glass, she rationalized he felt nothing but pity. Sara had thought she would die on the floor of the mental hospital. In her terror, she found solace in knowing the last image she might see before she died was Grissom's face. Despite never sharing a kiss, that moment forged a bond between.
But then she didn't die. She broke free from Trent's bondage and ran as far away from the lunatic as she could. And Grissom was at her side, yet she believed it was pity that kept him there. Not concern. Not love. Not desire. So she accepted, without a doubt, nothing more would ever pass between them again.
Then Nick was taken and everyone changed. Catherine became friendlier. Warrick got married. Greg matured. Nick came back to work with some insecurities Sara was sure only she saw.
And Grissom started holding her hand.
He even insinuated to her that he been aroused because of her close proximity.
But Sara reasoned Grissom's actions were results of post-traumatic stress from his brush with death when the bomb exploded killing Walter Gordon leaving him bruised and battered and no closer to finding Nick.
If she allowed Grissom to follow through on his "misdirected" desires, Sara believed it would not be long before his flirting and his caresses would stop and never return. And Sara would be left hurt and exposed. And in love without being loved back.
She couldn't risk that. So she decided to protect him from himself and protect herself from him. She would not allow his tenderness to break through her toughened exterior shell and she put a reign on his misguided attempts.
It was the right thing to do. But it didn't stop her from recalling the rigidness of his arousal against her hand. Or stop her from forming the fantasy of following him into his office and fulfilling their sexual desires until they are both sated.
While Sara worked to create a chasm between them, her presence drove Grissom to the point of distraction.
He watched her as she crossed the lab parking lot to head to their latest crime scene. Her butt fascinated him as it wiggled as she ambulated over the concrete surface. When he couldn't see panty lines, he wondered if she wore a thong or nothing at all. He loved watching her ass when she was working.
It continued whenever she came into his presence. It did not go unnoticed by Sara; but she was at a loss as what to do about it. As Sara walked down the hall to ballistics, she turned around quickly and caught Grissom staring at her while he stood in the doorway of the trace lab. He seemed entranced by her gait pattern as Hodges prattled on and on about how he just broke their latest homicide with the discovery of honey on the victim's clothing.
When Grissom realized Sara busted him, his eyes widened. He became further startled when Sara walked up to him, grabbed his forearm and dragged him toward the storage room around the corner from his office.
He felt somewhat silly being hauled by Sara, after all he was larger and stronger. But he was powerless in her hands. When they breached the plane of the cramped room, Sara shoved him completely inside, slammed the door and locked it.
She turned on him, with eyes blazing, "What the hell are you doing, Grissom?"
He pulled off his glasses and clipped them onto the collar of his polo shirt. When he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.
She sighed, then ran her fingers through her hair to accentuate her frustration.
Finally after several seconds of staring at each other, Grissom relented. "What are you talking about?" He advanced several millimeters toward her as they were already nearly in the others personal space.
"You're watching me all the time. You stare at my ass when you think I'm not paying attention. You freaking hold my hand like we were some old married couple you'd see on television. What are you doing?"
"If you don't know, then I suppose nothing," he shrugged.
"Your attentions toward me are indicators of post-traumatic stress from when you were almost blown up during Nick's kidnapping. I think your increased attraction toward me is due to decreased sleep and irrational behavior. It's not real, Grissom. I need you to get over it. It's making me uncomfortable."
Grissom advanced on her again, this time their bodies brushed slightly when they moved.
Sara continued her rant. "You can't do this to me anymore. I know you. You haven't changed your mind about things between us. It won't… you won't do anything more than lead me around by a leash, with me hanging on for any bit of attention you feel like dolling out on a particular day. God, Grissom…what do you want?"
She placed her hands on her hips and shoved out her chest, her breasts rubbing suggestively against his chest. Sara thought she had the upper hand. She said her peace and knew Grissom would never utter a word because his mind would work in overdrive analyzing what she said and what he should have said.
She was wrong.
"What I want is to touch you," Grissom said. "What is real is the feeling I have in my soul when I'm close to you. What is real is my heightened awareness of the body spray you place between your breasts. What is real is how your body awakens thoughts in mine it hasn't had in years: it's driving me nuts. But you know that, don't you Sara? That's why you've enclosed us in this small space and pressed up against me to make a point. You've pushed me inside this storage room, so we would be cramped, when my office is around the corner."
Sara stood dumbstruck. She thought he would pounce. His eyes emoted a feverish hunger that made her nipples perk under the thin material of her blouse. She could sense his desire to caress her body, but instead Grissom took a deep breath and gently reached down to grab her hands.
It was the first time he held both her hands at the same time.
"What I said to you in the break room a couple of weeks ago," Grissom looked up and knew from her expression that he didn't have to qualify the event any further. "What I said to you was inappropriate, selfish and hurtful. And I'm sorry."
"But Sara, my sexual desire for you is so real, it hurts. Figuratively and literally," Grissom said with a chuckle. "But what's real is this, what we have between us. And honey, I don't have post-trauamatic stress syndrome."
"Really?" She replied weakly.
Grissom looked down at their clasped hands, and soon Sara did the same. She watched as he stroked her palm and fingers slowly and reverently. "Really. What is truly real is how full I feel by just holding your hand. How brushing my thumb against the whirl of each of your fingerprint opens my heart in a way I've never felt before. How feeling that paper cut on the outside of your index finger with my middle finger calloused from years of signing my signature offers me an intimacy that I treasure. How being able to interlock my rough, stubby fingers with your long, elegant ones makes me want to share dumb secrets with you, like how I came in second place in the second grade spelling bee when I misspelled the word 'larvae.'"
A small laugh escaped Sara's lips. She still seemed reserved, and Grissom knew it. "But it can't just be real to me, Sara. It has to be real to you, too. And if you're ever ready, tell me and I will come to you."
And with that, despite the sexual tension and the proximity and the damn ease of just grabbing her and crushing her with his lips, and then some, Grissom took a step back. He brought Sara's hands to his lips, kissed them and released them. He left the room giving Sara a pleasant, small smile.
Sara stood frozen in her place in the cramped storage room. She quietly attempted to regulate her breathing. Surprise, resentment, anger, giddiness...none of those emotions permeated her mindset. She simply breathed in and out, before she calmly opened the door and went back to work.
It was several hours after shift had ended and Sara had long since left the building.
Grissom sat in his office scowling at a memo given to him by Conrad Ecklie when his cell phone rang. He saw the caller ID and a jolt of...well, something...that made him hesitate, but he quickly answered it before the call would roll over to his voice mail.
He had a sneaking suspicion this wasn't work-related, so he decided to change his normal gruff 'Grissom' to a soft, flirty, welcoming, "Hello?"
His heart beat a little quicker when he heard a throaty giggle on the other end of the line. "Hi. Want to know a dumb secret about me?"
Grissom's grin was wide, but still unsure. "I would."
"I mix chocolate syrup in my milk and Cheerios."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It's much better than sugar, and after you're done with the Cheerios, you can drink the rest of the chocolate milk."
"That is..."
"Dumb?"
"Adorable."
The shared a silent moment.
Grissom cleared his throat, "Once, when I was an undergraduate, I made a 'B' as a final grade."
"What subject?"
"Political Science."
"That figures." The sound of her laughter was music to his ears.
Again there was a pause. Neither felt the need to fill the silence with useless clatter.
What they didn't know, or maybe they did, is they both had flutters in their stomachs and stupid grins on their faces. Things had definitely changed since their meeting in the storage closet.
Several moments passed before Sara stammered, "So...ugh...I was wondering. I have this thing I wanted to do at my apartment and I was hoping you would give me a hand."
The metaphor was not lost on Grissom. "I'll be right there."
Grissom nervously knocked on her brown door, noticing the paint swirls in no apparent pattern. He stood there several moments before the door opened to nothing.
Sara was not standing in the doorway as he expected.
He cleared his throat and that's when he heard her from behind the door, "Grissom, come in."
He hesitated for a second, before her voice spoke again, "Grissom come on. It's cold."
When he cleared the door into her apartment, the door slammed shut behind him. Gilbert Grissom had never been as shocked as he was in that moment when he turned to look at her. Sara stood with one arm crossed over her breasts and one hand covering her lower anatomy while completely nude.
She removed both hands slowly, uncovering all of her to his stunned gaze.
"You said you wanted to touch me. Here I am," she said some evidence of fear in her voice.
Moments passed. He catalogued every inch of her available skin. Neither moved.
Without the help of Divine intervention, the two geeks would probably stood there until the world ended, but as luck would have it, Sara police scanner squawked, "403 with a possible 406: 745 Palm Lane."
Both looked up, and Grissom shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts and Sara advanced on him. Before she lost her nerve, she wrapped her arms around his waist.
He quickly returned the gesture; the skin on her back beneath his fingers was like silk.
She looked up into his eyes and their mouths were magnetically drawn to the other's.
Their kiss was not chaste, but more of desperation. They were scared the other would pull away, stopping this intimate moment in its tracks. Both clung to the other like their lives depended on it. And it did.
When Sara's fingers crept down into the waistband of his pants, Grissom tried to control his passion, merely hanging onto her, letting his own fingers slide into the crease of her ass. He massaged slowly up and down, giving her the impression of what it would feel like if another part of his anatomy was performing that action.
But when her fingers mimicked his actions and she slid her tongue into his ear, he lost all control of the situation. In a rush, he cupped her ass with his hands, pulling her onto him and pushed her against the door and pressed his erection into her. Sara gasped, but continued swirling her tongue in his ear.
The rush of her breath caused a shiver to run through his body. He began thrusting his need into her, while still completely dressed.
"Undress me." He demanded as she slithered out of his gasp.
When her feet hit the floor, she looked into his eyes and began unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, as she untucked the tail with her other hand. As she popped each button, he thrust into her, creating a nearly orgasmic explosion of pleasure to race through her body. When she reached to remove his pants, his held his breath as she continued to suck on his ear. The zipper slid down without resistance as his erection sprung forth. His pants were down around his ankles and Sara Sidle had his cock in her hand doing things to it that he'd only imagined.
Somehow in the haze of pleasure it occurred to him that he didn't want their first time to conclude with him ejaculating in her hand at her front door and through his fog, he commanded, "Bed, now."
Sara released him as he kicked off his pants and shoes as she led him by the hand. His heavy erection bouncing and brushing up against her ass as they made the short journey to her bed.
When they fell together on the bed, he crawled on top of her, kissing her as she lay breathless beneath him. He kissed down her torso; she writhed without conscious thought as he sucked her nipples going back and forth between the two. Then he covered her with his body, her legs opened automatically to allow him access to her most private place. Then with just a little nudge, he was inside her.
Sara inhaled sharply when he entered her making that silly little noise he remembered when he'd held hands with her at the diner that morning months ago. It spurred him to move within her at a faster pace, their bodies moving together effortlessly as he pounded into her. Hoping to gain some leverage, he lifted her legs that were formerly wrapped around his waist, so that each leg rested on a shoulder. The only sound in the room other than Sara's sighs was the sound of his balls slapping against her juncture. He rode hard her until the overwhelming tightening of her vaginal walls closed around him.
As he came inside her, the whole world seemed to explode before his eyes.
Grissom collapsed on top of Sara; their sweaty bodies cooling quickly from their frantic coupling. He rolled off to her side and Sara curled up under his arm, laying her head on his shoulder. Neither felt the need to speak for over an hour, both lay happily within the other's arms. When Grissom leaned down to kiss her forehead, Sara leaned up and they kissed, long and hard until the sexual tension between them returned tenfold.
Sara caressed his chest as they kissed and her hand made its way down until she was fondling his semi-hard erection. She cupped his balls then teasingly used the tips of her fingers to lightly run up his length.
He wanted to flip her over and fuck her relentlessly again, but he tried to calm down and let her enjoy him. Grissom began to buck against her hand, losing himself in the sensation. When he felt her mouth enclose over the tip of his penis, the only thought running through his head was "heaven."
For several long moments, he enjoyed the sensations of her tongue and the suction of her mouth, but it was becoming apparent that he would achieve orgasm again very soon.
"Sara?"
She didn't respond, but he reached down and cupped her chin. His dick slipped out of her mouth with a slight "plop" and she looked up at him with those brown eyes filled with a combination of lust and love.
"Come up here, dear." She crawled back up his hard body. When they were face to face and millimeters away from sharing another kiss, Grissom leaned down and licked her from her chin down to her belly button.
"Oh my!" She exclaimed as he nibbled down to her patch of brown curly hair.
He inhaled the pure animal scent of her arousal. When his fingers parted her lips and his tongue touched upon her clit, Sara became unglued.
"Oh, I'm too sensitive there right now. But God, Griss, it's wonderful."
He smiled up at her from between her legs and he moved slowly up her body until they were face to face again.
This time, they kissed, tongues battling, each savoring the taste of themselves on the other. Their hands migrated together, clutching at their sides as they kissed. The warm, sweet sensations emanating between their mouths left them both breathless.
Soon, Grissom moved their hands, while still clasped together to above her head. He leaned over and nuzzled against the underside of her arm inhaling Sara's unique scent. He loved the mix of her perspiration and pheromones, he felt his prick thicken once more. This time he slipped inside her without her audible gasp.
She rose her hips to his and they began a slow, gentle, easy rhythm; rocking together toward completion. Both felt a strong sense of belonging; of being loved and of finally allowing themselves the beauty of loving the other without restrictions or regulations.
When they reached a mutual orgasm, Grissom stayed stretched out on top of Sara. He cupped her face with his hands as his elbows supported his weight. He lowered his mouth to hers again, and almost forgot to kiss her, as they fell asleep, still intimately connected.
Grissom woke up sometime later and felt something binding his right hand. He was groggy, couldn't quite figure out where he was, and whatever had his hand was not letting go.
When he realized it was Sara's hand holding his while she slept, he smiled. He tightened their grip and went back to sleep.
THE END
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