Hi there, it's me again. I wrote this at the Dallas/Ft. Worth airport this morning, and then continued it on the plane to Salt Lake City. I'm sure the nice older lady sitting next to me appreciated that. Anyway, SMUT! Enjoy!
December 2005
As usual, Christmas day in the lab was a slow one. Used to working on the holiday, Grissom sat in his office, switching between researching the Black Bulldog ant for a presentation he would be making next month at UNLV, and closing his eyes to think about Sara. Sara clothed. Sara only wearing teeny tiny panties. Sara totally naked. Sara, naked covered in chocolate...when it got to be too much, he'd switch back to the Black Bulldog. It was for his own good, really. What if Warrick or Catherine busted him thinking about Sara, handcuffed to his bed? It could only end badly.
He couldn't help it, really. They'd been together for 5 months now, and while in the beginning it was mostly about moving slowly and figuring out each other's limits and walls and habits, the past month or two had been about, well, the sex. Grissom thought that after he reached a certain age, his sex drive would only be on the decline, but he was happily mistaken. He felt like a new part of himself was discovered, and better yet, he felt like a new part of Sara was discovered. He couldn't get enough of Sara Sidle. Her freckles drove him nuts. Her curves haunted him in his dreams. That lopsided smile, that throaty, sexy laugh. When he wasn't having sex with her, which wasn't often these days, he was thinking about it. Being inside Sara was like conquering a new country, and he wanted to do it 24 hours a day.
He made himself stare at the Black Bulldog to make the dirty thoughts go away, and was almost successful until Sara came sauntering through his office, closing his door on the way in. He groaned and smiled--groaned because the dirty thoughts were back, and smiled because the dirty thoughts were back.
Sara sat down in the chair in front of his desk. She looked at him and grinned. He grinned back, not sure what she was after but liking where it was going.
"Did you know that the Sunset Moth from Malagasy, native only to Madagascar and South America, have wings without any pigmentation?"
"I did know that, actually," Grissom said. Sara didn't usually come into his office and name unusual bugs. He had a feeling she was up to something, which was validated when she slowly rose from her chair and walked over to him.
"It's true. The colors you see are a refraction of the light from the wings," she said.
"Fascinating," Grissom said. "What else do you know about the Sunset Moth?"
"Not much, but I do know about the Kalima butterfly," she said. She sat on his lap, and typed "Kalima butterfly" into Google. They both looked at the images of this unusual butterfly without really knowing or caring the origins.
"It resembles a dead leaf," Sara said. "It has mastered the art of camouflage."
"True," Grissom said softly, smelling her hair. He put one hand under her shirt and caressed her back. He detected a small moan coming from her direction. They both looked at the door and wondered if one of them should get up and lock it. Neither of them did. Neither of them acknowledged that it was more of a turn-on when there was danger involved. Wasn't that the whole basis of their relationship anyway?
"I want to give you a Christmas present," she whispered. "And I don't mean an Entomology textbook."
Before he had a chance to say anything, she slowly sank down until she was underneath the desk. Grissom was far from an expert on relationships and sex, but he was pretty sure he knew where this was going.
Soon enough, he heard the satisfying sound of his zipped being lowered. In seconds, her warm, soft hands were on his legs, his thighs, and then inside his boxers. He gasped a little as he felt her gentle, and then not so gentle touch.
After almost 5 minutes of teasing him with her adept hands, she took him in her mouth. He moaned loudly--he couldn't help it, Sara knew how to suck a cock. Slow and quick, fast and hard, tongue and lips...she was working him into a frenzy. It felt so good; he completely forgot he was at work. The knock on the door did a good job of reminding him.
He motioned for Sara to stop, but she continued, putting more pressure with her mouth and generally making him insane.
"Come in," he screeched. Sara giggled.
Catherine came in with Nick closely behind her. They both looked tired and a little sad. Grissom knew they must miss their family on Christmas, but it was out of his hands. Ecklie was being unbearable these days. And then Sara used her teeth, just a little bit, and he nearly blacked out.
"What is wrong with you?" Catherine asked in her usual tactful way.
"I think I may have the flu," Grissom said. "What can I do for you?"
"We wrapped the Rose case," Nick said, looking at his boss strangely. "We were right; it was the stepdaughter who murdered Annie Gibson. She's in custody now."
"Great," Grissom said. "Good job. You can go home now."
"But we still have 3 hours left in the shift," Catherine said suspiciously. "We were going to get caught up on paperwork--"
"Catherine, where is Lindsey right now?"
"At her grandmother's," she said.
"Do you miss her?"
"Obviously."
"Go home," he said. "It's Christmas, for crying out loud."
Catherine took a closer look at Grissom, and after an uncomfortable second said, "Ahh, okay. We'll go, Griss. You have a good holiday, okay?" From the mischievous look on her face, Grissom knew that once again, Catherine knew his secret. He didn't know what it was about her, but she always seemed to know everything before anyone else. Sometimes he relied on that character trait. Sometimes, like at that moment, he did not.
Nick looked confused, but Catherine grabbed his hand and led him out. She made sure to close the door on the way.
Warrick and Greg were out in the field and wouldn't be back for hours. Everyone else was busy and knew not to bother Grissom when his door was closed. So when he was on the brink of an earth-shattering orgasm, he brought Sara back up from under the desk. She took one look at his eyes and knew what he wanted. Later, she told him that there was a certain kind of primal, primitive angst in his eyes, and he gave off this extreme carnal desire. She told him she liked it.
Looking to make sure the blinds were closed, Sara shed her pants and kept her panties on. She sat on his lap, facing him, and he moved aside her panties and entered her with horny fury. She rode him like he was her personal rodeo cowboy. He wasn't sure, but he was almost sure he heard her utter "Black Bulldog!" in the heat of the moment.
He stuck one hot, anxious hand under her shirt and squeezed her breast. Reaching under her bra, he tweaked her nipples the way he knew she liked. Sara gave an appetizing shudder to let him know she enjoyed it. And that's how the two of them fucked for the first time in his office, not caring that just beyond the door was a lab full of people who would know what happened the second Sara and Grissom walked out of their lovemaking session. They were at a point where they needed each other right then and there, and nothing was going to stop them from achieving that.
When it was over, and it wasn't over quickly, they both lazily put their clothes back on. Grissom enjoyed watching her get dressed as much as he liked to watch her undress. He just liked watching her, period. Sara knew he did, too, and took extra time and movements to make sure she put on a whole show.
Sara brushed her hair and made sure she looked presentable. Grissom laughed.
"You can try to look as innocent as possible, but if there's anybody out there, they're going to know," he said. "They're going to take one look at you and know. They're going to smell it in the air."
"I know," she said, smiling. "Hot, isn't it?"
All he could do was grin salaciously. As he watched her walk out the door, he thought to himself again, for the thousandth time, how lucky he was. Maybe middle age wouldn't be so bad, not with Sara around to make it more interesting.
He went back to studying the Bulldog ant, his heart--and other body parts--blissfully satisfied.
