Summary: An anatomy lesson makes G and S create R.

SMUTLET FIVE

Sara were working an emotionally draining case, and Grissom sympathized and wanted to comfort her. They had another short drought in lovemaking, not from lack of desire but of opportunity, time, and privacy. At last a shift came to a close and Sara lingered as usual in his doorway to say goodnight, only this time they didn't need to speak. His eyes met hers and they silently and eagerly agreed that as soon as he could escape he would join her at home to make sweet love together.

Grissom missed her as soon as she left, but uncomfortably forced himself to wait for some evidence to be processed that turned out to be useless and forgettable and yet another dead end. At last he collected his essentials, fed his tarantula, turned off the office lights, locked his door and stepped outdoors, blinking in the unfamiliar sunlight.

His home was frustratingly quiet. Though sensing that Sara was already asleep, he made his way to the bedroom hopefully and stopped short in the doorframe. His breath caught in his throat. Sara. My Sara, in my bed.

Sara was sprawled on her stomach, utterly and bewitchingly nude, atop the covers with her head facing him.

"God, Sara, you are so beautiful. So very beautiful. Quotations of a woman's beauty appeared in his mind as he gazed at her.

Her hand was curled like a child's next to her soft and lovely face, and only her lips and nose were faintly visible through the curtain of dark chocolate hair. Unblinking, he unbuttoned and removed all his clothes, letting his eyes caress her from the naked pink soles of her feet up to the crown of her perfect head., down the furrow of her spine to the hollow of her lower back, up and over the rounded curve of split buttocks and the mystery of womanhood and incredible length of muscled thighs and curved calves.

His hand encircled his stiffening cock automatically and a broad thumb slid wetly across the head. Stroking himself as slowly as he could manage, just barely keeping his arousal at a plateau, he found his feet carrying him to their bed as if drawn by a rope and pulley.

His left hand reached out and stroked one shoulder, a finger trailing up her neck and then down to trace the turned spools of her cervical spine. Sara sighed contentedly, trying to will her eyes to open just as he was trying to will his hand to release his erection.

"Tried. To...wait up," Sara said sleepily. She shifted to turn over and he gently stopped her.

"Shhh, honey. Want to make love to you, just as you are," he soothed with a husky undercurrent of desire.

Sara growled in encouragement.

Grissom fumbled open the bedside drawer, discovered that the tube of warming gel was nearly empty, and he retreated to the bathroom to find a large, nearly full bottle of vanilla skin lotion. Carrying it to his bed as his cock bobbled with his quiet footsteps, he was greeted by her eyes. They slid up and down and around his aroused body, then caught in a mutual reverence.

"Would you like a massage, my fair maiden?"

"Would I." Sara's head lifted a little and a lazy smile graced her features.

Grissom climbed atop the bed and threw a leg across her as if he was mounting a restless horse. He squirted a handful of lotion into his palms and let his hands worship her smooth body, starting in the tired and tangled muscles of her neck and shoulders. Fingers and tongue probed each delicate curve and his lips explored, as she moaned in pleasure.

"Trapezius muscle," he murmured into the skin of her shoulder.

Tearing himself away from a particularly enticing morsel of her delicious neck, Grissom moved down the bed. He massaged his way down her sleek back, rubbing either side of her tender spine with strong fingers, and continued across her ass, a part of the body that masseuses skip, even well-paid ones. Both hands squeezed.

"Gluteus maximus."

His hands stroked the neglected feet that had carried her through so many hours and nights.

"Anatomy of a woman," he murmured. As he found the linked bones and tender rounded muscles of the body he knew and loved and was still discovering, he whispered their names.

"Proximal phalanges. Metatarsals. Flexor digitorum longus tendon. Flexor digiti minimi muscle. Calcaneus. Flexor digitorum brevis muscle. Deep transverse metatarsal ligaments. Cuboid bone," he recited, grasping and rubbing her feet with fingers and the palms of his hands. Sara moaned loudly.

"Oh babe, that feels so good."

"Peroneus brevis tendon. Plantar calcaneonavicular ligament. Deltoid ligament. Posterior talofibular ligament. Posterior tibiofibular ligament."

"Bet you say that to all the girls," Sara said, eliciting a rumble of amusement.

"Gastrocnemius muscle. Tibia. Interosseous membrane. Fibula," he sighed, as if he was a priest reciting a sacrament, which he felt like he was.

Sara let out whimpers and moans of delight as his hands caressed and kneaded the musculature of her lengthy legs, smoothing and sliding across those acres of soft skin. Once again he was reminded of a horse, whose slender legs and curved defined muscles and delicate ankles had borne their rider over miles of rough terrain. Like a groom, he found the painful knots and released and soothed and warmed them with his hands and fingers.

"Medial condyle. Fibular collateral ligament. Medial epicondyle. Oblique popliteal ligament. Sartorius muscle. Plantaris muscle," he continued, pausing in the crooks of her knees..

Sara was humming in pleasure.

Grissom abandoned the lotion, as it didn't taste half as good as her naked skin.

"Biceps femoris muscle, semitendinosus muscle, gracilis muscle," he said more rapidly, kneading her responsive thighs. His tongue and lips explored the tracings of his hands, and she felt the warming, enticing, stirrings of arousal.

"Adductor magnus muscle, also known as the inner thigh," he told her. Sara spread her legs like an open book and he dove in, tongue first. Words were replaced by groans and licks and probing lips and quick panting breaths.

"How about you skip the rest of the anatomy lesson and sink that glans penis into me all the way to your prostate?" she asked throatily. Grissom chuckled and obliged, moving his hips into position.

"As the lady desires." Grissom probed between her legs with his blind head, stroking and revealing her sex with his coated fingers.

"Vulva." He sank into her warm juicy depths. Sara's hips thrust up slightly to meet his rocking hips, as her knees pushed into the mattress and spine arched delicately backward.

Grissom moved his eager mouth and lips to her exquisite neck and shoulders as his body blanketed and covered her flanks. Only his forearms kept him from crushing her, though skin slid wetly across skin.

Their carnal dance silenced them for a long delicious hour. Grissom slid his hand under the curve of her hip and probed and explored until his fingertips found her hooded and erect clitoris. He rubbed, harder and harder, in a circular motion that made her explode repeatedly in ecstasy, as their hips continued to thrust rhythmically. They cried out the ancient words and their base desires, telling each other, and the heated air, how much pleasure they were experiencing.

"Come for me, Gil."

With that, he did.

THE END